Undercover Wife
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Marisol's survives, but Horatio is determined to keep her safe. But it isn't easy, being the undercover wife of Miami's best. Can their relationship survive? Or will the strain tear them apart? Rating changes to M in Chapter 6, just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Undercover Wife

**Summary:**Marisol survives being shot, but Horatio and Eric are determined to keep her safe. With the help of the team, Marisol Delko Caine dies...and Maria Espinoza, in witness protection, takes her place. From there...well, it isn't easy being the undercover wife of Miami's most prominent CSI. Can Marisol and Horatio keep it together? Or will the strain be too great for them? Will have spoilers for episodes in the following seasons.

**Chapter One: Bedside Vigil**

Marisol's eyes slipped closed. Horatio caressed his young wife's fingers, feeling the tears in his own eyes. "Stay with me sweetheart. Stay with me."

A sigh was his only answer, but the rhythm of the heart monitor was steady, giving him hope. He rubbed her hand again, before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the upturned cheek. "I...it's all right Mari. I'll take a rain check on dinner. Just...stay with me."

A sound made him look up. Eric was standing nearby, his face still as stone and his eyes raging. He could see the barely contained anger and pain in the other man's gaze, and it was that which forced him to stand. "Eric..."

"How is she?" The younger man looked at him.

"Stable for now. The doctors aren't sure yet..." Horatio shifted, then looked up, meeting his new brother's eyes. "I won't let her go, Eric."

"I know, H. But...what do we do after that?" Eric's teeth were practically grinding. "We know we're both Mala Noche targets, so she is too. How are we going to protect her? We can't hunt them and keep her safe at the same time." He looked away, his shoulders tense. "Marisol is..."

"She's the most important thing in my life." Horatio said it quietly, but he saw the younger man start. "Unless it's what she wants, I'm not letting her go, Eric." Steely blue eyes met dark brown-black ones. "But...you have a point."

"So what are we going to do?" The younger CSI was watching him. "How do we keep her safe, H? Tell me that. Cause I'm not letting Mala Noche get away with this."

Horatio frowned. An idea was forming in his mind. "We can't do anything without Marisol's consent. But if she agrees...I have an idea. After she's safe..." His eyes came up to meet his colleagues. "After she's safe...we hunt Riaz, and the rest of his gang."

Eric considered a moment, then nodded. "All right. I'm with you. Just tell me what to do."

"First...we wait. Why don't you go back to CSI, and wait for my call." Horatio met his brother's eyes, this time with compassion in his own. "One of us should be with the team. I'll let you know if there's any change."

There was visible reluctance in the younger man's gaze, but her finally nodded. "All right. But...if there's any change..."

"You'll know immediately." Horatio returned the nod, then watched as the other man strode out the door. Then he turned, and resumed his seat beside the still figure on the bed. One hand reached out to take his wife's. "Marisol..."

He wasn't sure how long he remained there, sitting beside her bed. His team, especially Eric and Calliegh, sent him periodic updates. A part of him wanted, almost needed, to be out in the field, venting his anger and frustration. But he couldn't bring himself to move. He was terrified that if he turned away, even for a moment, Marisol would slip away. So he remained, holding her hand, listening to the soft beeping of the machines and monitors, taking comfort in the rhythms that meant she hadn't given up on him yet.

He was slipping into a sort of half-doze when the rhythm changed. His eyes shot open, adrenalin pounding through his system. "Marisol?"

For a moment, there was nothing. Then her eyes fluttered open. "Horatio?" The word was barely a breath, but it was his name, in her voice.

"It's all right. I'm here Mari. I'm right here beside you." He stood, leaning forward over the bed so he could take her hand in one of his, then wrap his other arm around her head and shoulders in a gentle, comforting embrace. "I'm right here beside you. Everything's going to be okay."

"Horatio." A gentle smile creased her face. Her hand, wrapped in his, gave him a gentle squeeze. Horatio forced a smile onto his face. She smiled back. "I love you."

"I love you too, Marisol." He stroked her face with a gentle thumb. "I love you too, sweetheart."

The smile widened, then her eyes slipped closed. Horatio swallowed hard, then looked up as the doctor entered the room. "Doctor..."

The man checked the monitors, then Marisol's vitals by hand. Then he checked under the bandages, the scars left by surgery. Finally, he straightened, and a smile crossed his face. "Well, it was touch and go for a while there, but it appears she's entered a normal healing sleep. We need to keep her for a few more days to be absolutely certain, but I believe she's going to make it."

Horatio swallowed again, feeling something in his stomach and shoulders unknot for the first time in days. "Thank you doctor."

"Not a problem." The man smiled at him, then looked at the sleeping form on the bed. "Actually, I'd say it's more your miracle than mine. Sometimes what they really need is to have someone beside them."

"My miracle..." Horatio swallowed. "She is...certainly that."

The doctor chuckled slightly, the relaxation of his tone bringing a small smile to Horatio's face. Then he spoke again. "Lieutenant...why don't you use our shower facilities here, then come back and get some rest. I can have a small cot set up for you, if you'd rather stay with your wife."

"I would. But...I think I'll wait until her brother gets here. I need to let him know about her change in status."

"As you like. Let me know whatever you need." The doctor checked Marisol's status once more, then turned. "I'll be right down the hall if you need me."

"Thank you, Doctor." Horatio waited until the other man left the room, then pulled out his phone. "Eric...it's Horatio. About Marisol...she's going to be okay." The other man's relief was palpable, even across the phone line. "That's right. They'll keep her for a few more days, and you and I should stay with her, but it appears she's going to recover. So we...we need to decide what to do next."


	2. Chapter 2: Protection

**Chapter Two: Protection**

Horatio spent the night, sleeping on a makeshift bed beside his wife. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the strain of the last few days was telling, even for him. He woke to something soft brushing his hand. His head turned.

Marisol was lying in the bed, smiling gently at him. Her hand had captured his, gently stroking his knuckles. "Hey handsome."

"Mari..." Even knowing what the doctor had said, he almost couldn't believe it. Then, without conscious thought, he was sitting up, reaching across, pulling himself to her so that she was nestled against his chest in a gentle hug, avoiding the monitor wires. "Marisol." He breathed her name, relief filling every part of him.

"Horatio." Her voice was soft, a little weak, but still reassurance and question all in one.

"I thought I'd lost you." He murmured the words softly.

A small smile, which he felt more than saw. "Now why would I ever leave such a handsome man?"

She was teasing him. Sheer relief made him respond in kind, drawing a smile from him, almost involuntarily. "Well you...you did stand me up for dinner. I had to cancel the reservations after all." His voice was wavering, but the rush of emotion was too much for even him to stop it.

She laughed, a little breathlessly, which was to be expected, but she laughed. The vibration of it against his chest was the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make it up to you, once they let me out of here."

"I guess you will." Still, the thought of her release made him sober up. He and Eric had discussed plans, and had one they thought would work, but it depended entirely on Marisol's cooperation. Even then, it was a difficult plan. He swallowed, wondering how best to break the idea to the young woman in his arms.

"Horatio?" That was a clear question, and he knew she'd felt him stiffen.

"Mari..." He swallowed to ease the constriction in his throat, then bent his head. "Mari...when I thought I'd lose you...I...my world fell apart. Eric and I...we both..."

"Horatio...it's all right. It's all right." Her hand touched his arm, gentle and comforting, soothing him. "I'm here."

"I know you are, sweetheart. But...Mala Noche is still out there. Riaz...the man who shot you...they're out there. And I...I don't want to see you hurt again. I...I can't do this again." He swallowed hard. "Marisol...I..."

"Horatio?" She pulled away from him, as much as she could with her healing wound and the confines of a hospital bed. There was fear, and the start of grief in her eyes. "You're leaving me?"

"No!" It took him a moment to realize what his words had sounded like. Then his hand was reaching for her face, stroking it gently, grateful that the doctor had removed the oxygen line while he was asleep. "No sweetheart, it's not like that. I...I would never leave you."

She allowed him to pull her close again, but he could feel her tension. "Then what are you saying?"

"I want...I want to place you in protection. Eric and I...we wanted to protect you. We thought of a way, but...I'll need your permission, Mari. And it...it's going to be hard, for both of us, and there's no telling how long it will last." Horatio swallowed.

He felt her sigh against his chest. "Well, tell me this plan of yours."

He relaxed a little, grateful for her understanding, but knowing that the hardest part of the conversation was about to arise. "Well, first of all...we want Mala Noche, and everyone else, to believe you died here." He felt her tense, and kept speaking, knowing the only way to do this was to keep going, to lay everything out for her. "If you agree, the doctor will give you a very powerful sedative. Then my team will take you to Alexx, and she'll administer the counter-agent, while certifying that you died of respiratory failure, due to injuries sustained in the shooting."

"Then what, Horatio?" He was grateful she was taking it so calmly, though he could sense the fear and hurt in her, and hated being responsible for it.

"Well...I have a friend, in New York, who's willing to do me a favor. His name is Mac Taylor. We'll fly you to New York, under a false name, and then he and his team will take you into protective custody." He swallowed again.

"Hmmm...well, I did say I wanted to travel. I guess that'll work." There was forced lightness in her voice, but at least she wasn't pushing him away. "So, what will you be doing?"

"I'll arrange a fake funeral, the same as was done for my brother Raymond, a few years ago. Then Eric and I will hunt the Mala Noche." His hands tightened slightly on her shoulders. "We need to get your shooter and Riaz at the minimum, and as many of the other gang members as we can off the streets. You understand, Marisol?"

"I do." Her hand came up, lightly stroking his shoulder and chest, then she cocked her head awkwardly to look up at him. "This is what you do. This is how you are. Who you are."

He felt a lump in his throat, and turned his face to hers, then looked away. He almost couldn't bear the light of her gentle spirit, the warmth and trust in her eyes. He swallowed again. "You deserve better than this, Mari." His hand stroked hers, an ache deep inside him. "If you'd rather not do this...if you'd...if you want to make a different life for yourself...I..."

"Don't be silly." She smiled at him, her hand stroking along his face. "Maybe this isn't everything a girl hopes for in a honeymoon, and this isn't the most romantic morning after I've ever heard of..." She forced a chuckle from him, then caught his eyes, her own serious. "I wanted you. You've never told me life would be different. I've always known you had a dangerous job, and that...that there might be problems. That's why I wasn't sure you'd actually be willing to marry me. Because I knew that worried you. But...I still want to do all those things I told you, and I want to do them with you." She smiled at him. Then she turned her head into his chest. "So...what happens after that, in this plan of yours?"

"As soon as Riaz is out of the picture, as soon as I can...I'll come for you. I'll come to New York myself and get you." He swallowed. "There's a house...next to mine, with an adjoining fence. It's been empty for a while. Eric and I...we'll buy it. Then you'll have an address established, under a fake name. The story will be that you're a witness for a case, for Mac, and that he asked me to take you for protective custody. And then..." He stopped.

"All I have to do is sneak through the fence." There was a distinct note of laughter in her voice. "Hmmm...I always wanted to start a home business, working on therapies for cancer patients and people with long term illnesses. So I can have one house for an office, and one house for you." She shifted. "Horatio...can you really afford that?"

"I can." He was aware of his own monetary limitations, but he'd spent the past decade and more slowly saving money. He lived thriftily, and even with his current pay-grade, he had a fair amount saved. "I can." he held her close. "Mari...this is...I don't know how long this arrangement will last. I have...several enemies. This kind of life..." He felt a lump forming in his throat again, remembering his brother, Raymond, and Yelina, and everything they'd gone through. "I..." His voice roughened, and he stopped, uncertain even what he wanted to say.

"I've already said it's all right. Besides...you said Eric and the team will know?"

"Yes. I'll need their help to get you to New York, and make the arrangements." He nodded.

"Then I'll still have friends, plus you and Eric. You two are the most important people in my life." Her hand wrapped around his arm once more. "Besides...you hear all those stories about being the wife of an undercover cop, or something." She turned her head suddenly, looking up into his face with a small smile. "I get to be the undercover wife of Miami's best."

The relief that filled him nearly set him weeping, and he couldn't stop the smile breaking across his features. "I bet you'll do great undercover work, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled lightly, but his mind was already noting that she was paler than she'd been when she woke, and the hand on his arm was trembling slightly. He stroked her fingers. "You need to rest, sweetheart." He smiled into her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll still be here when you wake. I promise."

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. He stood, helped her lay back against the pillows, then held her hand until her breathing deepened into sleep.

"Lieutenant Caine?" The doctor had arrived in the doorway. He stepped forward, checked the monitors. "Vitals are good. I'd say tomorrow or the day after, she can be released." The man paused. "That matter you asked me about...have you made a decision yet?"

"I have." Horatio swallowed, then met the man's gaze. "We're going to go through with it. Can you be ready by tomorrow?"

"Yes I can." He sighed, looking at the young woman in the hospital bed. "I wish you the best of luck, Lieutenant. I hope this works."

"So do I. So do I." Horatio stared at his wife for a moment longer, then turned to the windows, pulling out his cell phone. A quick tap brought up the numbers he wanted. There was a ring, then clicks. He spoke softly. "Eric, Calliegh...tell the others, we're on." He listened to the quick confirmation over the speaker, then clicked it shut. He turned, looking into the face of his sleeping bride. "Here we go."

**8888888**

Horatio sighed, looking down at the grave marked Marisol Delko Caine. The funeral had been three days ago.

He knew there was nothing in the coffin but weights. He knew Marisol had arrived in New York four days ago, safe in Mac's care. He'd watched as the doctor sedated her, holding her hand as she slipped under the influence of the powerful drugs. It hadn't taken much on his part to look stricken. The thought of what he was doing, how risky this could be, was terrible.

He'd watched as Alexx did the false autopsy, and administered the counter-agent to the sedative. Fortunately for his nerves and his heart, Marisol had been just fine. Then Alexx, Calliegh and Valera had come together, using their combined skill to make sure the woman who emerged from the police office looked absolutely nothing like Marisol Delko Caine. Under their hands, Marisol's dark brown hair had been turned absolute, midnight black, the natural waves and curls straightened out. Colored lenses changed her eye color. A sort of skin dye had been applied, darkening her natural skin color. They'd even applied a couple of henna tattoos. There was nothing they could do about her height, but a change in clothing styles gave the appearance of a different body shape than Marisol's reed-slender form, and the change from heels to flats gave the illusion of altered height. Calliegh and Valera had even coached her, demonstrating different ways of walking and standing, altering her body language a few notches.

Not being able to drive her to the airport himself had been one of the hardest moments of his life. But he and Eric had both known they couldn't be seen with the young woman who emerged from Miami-Dade. He had finally bitten his lip and asked Frank, using the cover that she was a witness for a homicide. Even that had been dangerous, but he couldn't send her with someone he didn't trust. His last view of her had been from his office, as she walked to Tripp's car. It had left his heart aching.

Horatio sighed, bringing his thoughts back to the present. Only moments ago, he'd been informed by Federal agents that Riaz, whom he'd captured two days ago, was being extradited to Brazil. The knowledge filled him with rage, knowing what would happen. Riaz would get there, and within a week, the Brazilian court would cut him loose. Judges there were far more easily bought there than here, and Riaz was a member of Mala Noche, not to mention one of the top drug smugglers in the area. Worse, he knew his own moves, initially at least, had to be within the legal system. He wasn't sure what he was going to do after that.

He wanted to see Marisol again. Even the past three days had been a nightmare. He looked down at the tombstone again. Marisol Delko Caine. He knew he'd see her again, and yet...the reality hit him like a blow. Even though she had lived, the easy relationship they had was gone. Yes, he would see her, and he loved her still, with all his heart. But their relationship from here would be careful, secretive, and he had no way of knowing how long it had to be like that. He had so many enemies...it could easily be years. He'd seen what that kind of relationship had done to his brother, and Yelina. Even with all her reassurances, he still feared Marisol would leave him. Or worse, that he'd hurt her.

A sound shook him from the grim thoughts. He looked up. Eric was standing beside him. A glance at the younger man's face said he'd heard about Riaz's status. The young man looked at the empty grave of his sister for a long moment, then up at Horatio. "So, what do we do, H?"

He stilled a moment, weighing his choices, but his heart already knew the answer. Riaz was like a mad dog. He had to be put down. He looked up. "We're going to Brazil."


	3. Chapter 3: Reunion

**Chapter Three: Reunion**

The pilots warning woke Horatio from a light doze. He blinked, looking out the window of the plane to see the lights of New York below him. He sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, smoothing his rumpled hair, getting his thoughts in order.

It had taken almost two months. Six weeks to go through legal channels, only to have Riaz released, as he'd known would happen. Then two more weeks, hunting the man through the streets of Rio,until he and Eric had finally cornered the bastard. Then the desperate flight to save Ray Jr. and prevent him from dying as his father had done.

The memory of Ray's death in his arms made his throat tighten. So did the knowledge of how close he'd come to losing his nephew. He looked at his hands, remembering Ray's blood, mixing with Riaz's blood from the knife, with the blood of the drug dealer he'd shot to save his nephew's life.

The turbulence of landing shook him from his thoughts, and he pushed them to the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about this now. Not now, of all times.

He'd sent Mac a text, two days after his return, after all the paperwork had been done. A simple text, just 'Finished the job. You have something for me?'

Mac had called him the next day, asked about the case in a brief way, as colleagues did, then announced that he needed a favor. A young woman had come into his care, and was in need of protection. She didn't want to go to the Feds, and Mac wanted her out of New York. Horatio had listened, then agreed and booked a plane to New York for the following day, after clearing it with the Chief.

The plane touched down, taxied in. He waited until most of the passengers were off, then disembarked, his only luggage the small carry-on he'd brought with him. His heart was pounding with mingled dread and anticipation.

Mac was waiting for him, his dark, lean form standing out clearly in the crowd. Horatio smiled, then strolled over. "Mac."

"Horatio. Nice to see you." Mac held out a hand, and the two men shook, both smiling slightly.  
>"Thanks for coming."<p>

"You know...I think it should be the other way around." He met his colleague's eyes. "I appreciate you coming to pick me up."

"You're welcome." Mac jerked his head in the direction of the gate. "Come on, car's waiting."

Horatio nodded, and the two men headed for the exit. Neither of them spoke until they were in the car. Then Horatio broke the silence. "You said...you have something for me."

"Yeah." Mac nodded, then tilted his chin at a file on the dash. Horatio took it. "Maria Espinoza. Immigrant. Came to New York chasing the American Dream. Wound up witnessing a nightmare. Gang related, which is why she shouldn't remain here."

Horatio nodded, scanning the case file. Everything was laid out for him. Maria was the witness of a homicide, tied to a drug trafficking ring in the city, according to the report. He looked up. "How accurate is this?"

The smallest of smiles quirked the other man's lips. "Accurate enough to keep anyone from asking, not accurate enough for either the Feds or the street gangs to go looking. I had some buddies of mine from the Organized Crime Unit and Homicide cook me up something using old case files. Told them it was for an undercover operation."

Horatio felt a smile emerge, the first real smile he'd felt in weeks. A small laugh bubbled up in his throat, remembering Marisol's words to him. "So it is." He looked up. "And the witness?"

"Renting an apartment next to Stella's. Safest place we could find." Mac pulled to a stop at a light, then turned to look at him. "You want to head there now?"

The sudden need to see her was almost overwhelming. Horatio felt a lump in his throat, and butterflies in his stomach. He swallowed, and managed a nod. "Please."

If Mac noticed the tension in him, he didn't say anything. Instead he pulled out his phone and dialed, then spoke into it. "Stella, it's Mac. Yes, I've picked up Lieutenant Caine. He's requested immediate transport to the safe house. Would you meet us there? Thank you." He snapped the phone shut. "Stella will be there to let us in."

"Thank you." Horatio swallowed again, then turned to look out the window.

The rest of the drive was silent. Horatio would have worried about being rude, but he knew from experience that Mac was generally the quiet type, as was he. Besides, he couldn't think of anything else, other than the upcoming meeting.

Eventually, Mac pulled up to a tall apartment building and parked. "We're here." He looked at the other man. "Want me to escort you?"

Horatio shifted. "That...is up to you." He wanted this meeting to be alone but, given their cover story, he understood why the New York CSI might feel the need to supervise.

Mac studied him a moment, then spoke. "Eighth floor. Stella will be waiting by the elevator. Call me if you need anything."

Horatio looking into the other man's eyes a moment, seeing understanding and compassion there. "Thank you." Then he opened the door and stepped out.

The ride up to the eighth floor felt like the longest ride he'd ever taken. His heart was pounding in a way it hadn't since his wedding day. When the elevator finally dinged, he found himself taking a deep breath, repeating his ritual phrase almost by instinct. "Here we go."

Mac's second, Stella, was waiting as promised. She smiled when she saw him. "Lieutenant Caine. Nice to see you again."

"Thank you." He let a small smile touch his own face. "I'm here to see someone. Maria Espinoza."

Stella nodded. "Right this way." She led him down the hall, to a room at the far end. "This is Ms. Espinoza's apartment. She's here at the moment, so I'll introduce you." She stuck a key in the door, clicked the latch, then pushed it open and stuck her head in. "Maria, Lieutenant Caine from Miami is here to see you."

He didn't catch the reply, but Stella straightened, and pushed the door open for him. "I'll let you say your greetings in private. I'll be waiting right here if you need anything."

"Thank you ma'am." Horatio took one last deep breath, then stepped inside and shut the door.

A familiar slender form stood by the window, gazing out at the city-scape, her back turned. Horatio felt his heart constrict, waves of emotion pouring over him, nearly making him dizzy. He couldn't find any words to say. Instead, he walked across the carpet, soft footed, until he was just behind her, to her left. "Ma'am."

She turned, looking at him with deep hazel eyes, the smallest of smiles already breaking across her features. "Ma'am?" Her hand touched his face.

That gentle touch was all it took to break the barriers inside him, sending relief crashing through him like a flood. All the anguish and grief of the past weeks was swept aside under the onslaught. He pulled her to him. "Mari..."

"Hey there handsome." He smiled, remembering how she'd taken to calling him that, after hearing Calliegh use the term. She returned his embrace, her arms around him like a gift from God. "Horatio?" She looked up.

He felt her concern in the sudden tension, and shook his head. "I'm okay. I'm okay." He let his hand take hers, then brush her cheek. "It's all right Mari. I'm all right now." He pulled her back to him. "I missed you so much, sweetheart."

"I missed you too." Marisol leaned forward, pillowing her head on his chest. "Did you get him?"

"We got him." He nodded, swallowing back the rest of the thoughts in his mind.

"Horatio?" She twisted, looking up at him, concern in her eyes. "Are you all right?" Her fingers came up, to trace the lines around his eyes with a gentle caress. "Horatio...what happened?"

He swallowed. He'd just found her again. He knew he have to tell her what had happened to him, and what he'd done, but...not now. Not when he could finally relax into her arms. Not here, the first time they'd seen each other in two months. He took her hand, looking away as he tried to find the best answer. "Well...a lot happened, actually." He met her gaze. "Why don't I...tell you later?"

"Horatio..." Her eyes were concerned, and exasperated.

"I know, sweetheart." And he did. He knew how frustrated it made her, that he was keeping secrets from her. "Please, Mari...later." He met her eyes, willing her to understand.

"All right." She nodded, conceding to his unspoken request. "Later then." She studied him a moment, then smiled. "Did you have a good flight?"

"Yes." He returned her smile, then brushed a thumb across her cheek, feeling the delicate softness of her skin. "You know...I think my favorite part was the arrival, though. I met this beautiful young lady, and she asked me about my trip." He caught the smile that meant she understood him. "You?"

"Good." She smiled. "It's the first time I've ever left Florida. The flight was fantastic, and everyone's been very kind to me. Mac and the others on his team I mean. Stella especially." She wrapped her hand over his arm. "I haven't gotten to do much sightseeing, but...it's been okay." She looked up, and there was a glitter of mischief in her eyes. "And then, they told me the man of my dreams was coming to visit me. I got to see him today."

The small chuckle that bubbled up in his chest finally made him relax. "Did you? I guess I'll have to meet him then." He brushed her cheek with a smile. "Mari..."

"Maria." She smirked at him. "They've been calling me that since I arrived. I've actually gotten used to it. But I'm glad." She brushed his face, one of those gentle, subconscious caresses that mirrored his, and said more eloquently than words just how much she'd missed him. "I always liked the way you and Eric shortened my name. Maria sounds almost the same."

"Mac's team has good sense." He conceded the point with a smile. He looked at her. "So...are you ready to go home?"

"Somewhat." She was looking at him, and Horatio wondered what she saw. Then her hand stroked across his brow, down his cheek, to settle against the side of his face. "You know...we haven't had a honeymoon yet. Not really."

His eyebrow rose. "No. We haven't." He met her gaze. "We hadn't really discussed one. Did you want one, sweetheart?"

A surprised, slightly exasperated smile broke across her features. "Every girl wants a romantic honeymoon, Horatio. Didn't you know that?"

"I'm afraid I didn't. Was there something in particular on your mind?" They hadn't discussed it, there'd been no time. And both of them knew his job, and his dedication to it, would make it difficult.

She stroked his cheek again, her eyes serious. "Horatio, you're tired. You need to take a break." Then the smile crept back over her features. "We're here in New York, with so many things to see and do. I've never been here before, but I've heard so much about it." She looked out the window. "It's such a different city than Miami. But you've been here, right?" She looked back at him

"I have. I was born here. And...I used to work here. For NYPD." He smiled at her, then came to the window to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. As predicted, she leaned a little, tilting her head against his. "Was there something special you wanted to do?"

"Well..." her voice was the soft, slow tones of a child, asked what she wants for Christmas. "I want to visit the Statue of Liberty, and Broadway, and maybe see Manhattan. Besides that...I'm not sure. Do you know some interesting spots?"

"I do." He had to wonder if this was a good idea, but he couldn't think why it wouldn't be. His enemies, and hers, were in Florida. Besides...it occurred to him that the Canadian border wasn't that far away, a matter of a day or two drive. She wanted to travel. And there was one man he wanted Marisol to meet. "I can't take too long, but would you like to have our honeymoon here?"

"Can we?" She looked up at him.

He raised one eyebrow, a small smile curling across his face. "Well...we'll have to get Mac's help, and I'll have to explain to my boss, but...I think we might be able to manage something." He looked into her eyes. "Have you ever seen the Great Lakes?"

"Only in movies." She blinked. "What are you thinking?"

He met her questioning gaze with another smile. "You'll see." He brushed a kiss across her forehead. "Wait here a moment, please."

"Sure. But you'd better come right back." She smiled, taking the sting out of her words.

"I will." He brushed his thumb across her knuckles, then went back to the apartment door.

Stella was in the corridor, leaning against the wall. She had been messing with her phone, but she looked up when he shut the door behind him. "Everything go okay?"

"It did." He couldn't say more, but he felt another smile on his lips, and knew it spoke for him. "However...I was wondering if I might ask a favor."

"Want me to lose your transfer paperwork and case notes for a few days?" Horatio blinked, and Stella gave him a small smile. "Mac told me the circumstances, and I've been talking to her." She tilted her head to the door, then spoke more softly. "Lieutenant, you weren't even married a day before you had this happen. She's been wound up tighter than a drum. You show up looking like death warmed over and come out that door looking like someone resurrected you. It doesn't take a CSI." She looked at her phone. "How long?"

"A week, at least." That was about how long he thought he could get from his superiors.

She glanced at him again. "You're planning something. I'll tell Mac ten days." She tapped a number, then held the phone to her ear. "Mac. Stella. Remember that suggestion I made you? Ten days. Great." She listened a few moments, then nodded. "Well, of course we'll get electronic copies made, and sent, as soon as we find it." She grinned. Then she clicked the phone shut. "And it's done. Mac says he's sorry, but he thinks your file got lost in another one. He'll track it down as soon as he can. Just please let him know what you plan to do, so he can arrange appropriate measures."

"Thank you ma'am." He fidgeted with his cell phone. He felt a little guilty about what he was planning, but...he hadn't had a vacation in years. The trip to Brazil hadn't been officially sanctioned, but he also knew his department head hadn't considered it vacation either. He flipped open his phone. "Chief. Yes, Horatio here. Yes, I've met with the witness, and she's agreed to accept our custody. Unfortunately, sir, there seems to be a problem. Some of the paperwork has been lost in transit, and I'm informed that the electronic copies are unavailable." He paused. "Yes sir, I'm afraid the young lady's custody transfer papers are among them." He paused again. "Well sir, I was thinking...since I can't transport the lady, and it seems unwise to leave her, I was wondering if it would be all right for me to take a little time off. Detective Taylor assures me things should be straightened out within two weeks sir." he stopped, feeling the smile cross his face, that he fought to keep out of his voice. "Thank you sir. I'll do that." He clicked the phone shut. "It seems...I'm at your disposal."

"Huh. More like at the lady's." Stella grinned. "Let us know what you plan."

"I know she wants to see the Statue of Liberty, and Broadway. And I was thinking...it's not that far to the border. Obviously, we can't cross, but...she did tell me once that she wanted to travel." He considered. "If you know of a nice, quiet restaurant...I believe I owe the lady a dinner still as well."

"Ellis Island, something on Broadway, trip to the Great Lakes. And dinner at a nice place. Right. I'll see what we can do. Though...how we'll explain the expense to the department..." She sighed.

"Let me worry about that." Horatio smiled. Then another thought crossed his mind. "Also...I was thinking...we might do better renting a car, rather than taking a plane for the trip home."

Stella chuckled. "Nothing says I love you like a cross country road trip." She nodded. "I'll tell Mac." She studied him a moment. "Lieutenant, that's a two bedroom apartment, with a stocked fridge. I suggest you get back in there, eat something, and then take a rest. You may look like you rose from the dead, but you also look like it wore you out." She gave him a grin. "See you later."

Horatio smiled and let himself back in. Marisol was standing right where he'd left her. He stepped to her side. "Mari."

She turned. "What happened?"

He let his smile widen a moment before answering. "It appears...that your paperwork has been mislaid. I've been assured that it will be handled, but they think it might take a week to a week and a half. Until then...it looks like we've both got some time on our hands." He looked into her eyes. "Stella said she'd see what she could do for us. But I was thinking, in addition to the things you mentioned...that perhaps you'd like to visit the Canadian border."

Her eyes widened. "Horatio...I don't have a passport."

"We don't have to cross the line, sweetheart. If you want to go, we can stand on the American side and look across." He enfolded her in his arms once more. "Tell me what you want, Mari."

"I think it sounds lovely. But what I want, right now..." She looked into his eyes, then stroked his cheek. "I want to lay in bed, with my husband, and rest." She met his gaze, and a small smile sneaked over her face. "Well, I'd like something besides rest, but..." the smile faded. "You still look tired. When did you last sleep?"

"I slept some on the plane." He knew she didn't mean that, and knew she would read his evasion for what it was.

"You need rest, love." She took his hand. "It doesn't have to be anything more than that, not tonight." She turned, pulled him gently toward one doorway. "Come."

The colors of the room were cool, blues and greens. He hadn't realized just how exhausted he was, until he saw the bed. He let her guide him to it, gently settle him back against it. It was astonishingly easy to kick off his shoes, loosen his belt. Any other time, the feel of her fingers stripping it away from him, the feel of her hands soothing him as he slipped the buttons open on his dress shirt, would have been arousing, but now it relaxed him. He pulled the shirt loose, over his undershirt, and considered trying to retrieve his bag. But the bed was soft, welcoming, and the woman beside him was too precious to release.

She saw his brief glance to the outer room. "Do you need something?"

"Just you." He saw the smile in her eyes, and her lips.

"Then rest." One hand urged him to lean back. He remembered, briefly, having done this for her, during chemo sessions, or rough nights. He let himself settle back against the pillows, and she curled against him, her warmth thawing the cold in him, easing the aching exhaustion that had haunted him for weeks. "Rest love."

He was asleep almost before she finished speaking.

He woke in the night with his heart pounding, the memory of Raymond's blood soaking his hands as his brother died in his arms. The vividness of it brought him out of sleep with a choked gasp. He barely had time to register he was awake, however, before a hand touched his arm. "Horatio?"

That single word, spoken so softly by that voice, served to calm him at once. His racing pulse subsided, his breathing evening out as he fell back against the pillows. In the dark, his opposite hand found hers as he closed his eyes, trying to shake the last of the nightmare. "Marisol."

"Horatio. What's wrong? What happened?" Her voice was concerned. Then there was a click, and the bedside lamp lit, showing her face, her wide frightened eyes. "You cried out." Her finger stroked the back of his hand. "You were calling for Raymond."

He sighed, not wanting to explain. "It's all right sweetheart."

"Horatio...that's not all right. What's wrong? Please, tell me."

"I was...dreaming of something that happened." He swallowed. He didn't want to discuss it now, but he'd promised he wouldn't lie to her. The evasion was the best he could do.

"In Brazil?" She met his eyes.

"Yes."

She studied him a long moment, then sighed in affectionate exasperation. "You still don't want to talk about it."

"Not...not for tonight."

"All right then." Her hand shifted to his shoulder, pressing him gently back to the pillows. "You go to sleep then." Her hand traced across his chest, stopping above his heart. "I'll be here to keep the nightmares away, okay?"

"Okay." He let her press him back, then rearrange the comforter over both of them. Then she turned the light off and curled up next to him, her one hand holding his, the other resting on his abdomen in a gentle half embrace. Then she tucked her head into his shoulder, so close he could feel the heat of her breath on his neck. He reached his free hand across to stroke her hair. "Thank you sweetheart."

"Go to sleep." He heard the smile in her voice. "You have to rest well for the start of our honeymoon tomorrow." There was a pause, then she shifted to whisper directly in his ear. "You know...I think we should sleep late, don't you?"

He felt an answering smile cross his face, wiping away the last of the nightmare pain. "That...sounds great." His hand stroked her hair as she settled back against him. Within minutes, he heard her breathing even out into sleep. And listening to that quiet, peaceful rhythm, he fell asleep too.


	4. Chapter 4: Honeymoon Planning

**Chapter Four: Honeymoon Planning**

Horatio woke to find himself curled under the covers, alone. For a moment, he was disoriented by the unexpected differences to his normal location. The relative weakness of the sunlight, the position of the bed, the odd sounds and smells. Then he remembered where he was, and the realization that he was alone crashed through him. He sat up and started to whip off the sheets, when a laugh startled him.

Marisol stood in the doorway, holding a cup. "It's okay, Horatio. You don't have to rush out of bed." She tilted her head, grinning. "No work today, remember?"

"I do." He smiled back, relaxing. "I was about to search for you."

Her smile widened. She stepped back in the room, settled on the bed. "Well I was just about to rejoin you."

He nodded, and the two of them settled against the headboard, her head leaning into his shoulder. They sat in silence, as his arm snaked gently around her. Then she tilted her head to look up at him. "Coffee?"

"I'd love some." He smiled at her. "So...what happens now?"

"Well..." She grinned at him. "The first thing is, how about some breakfast?" She lifted a hand, ran it gently over his chest. "So...what do you like? I've made you dinner more than once, but I've never made you breakfast. What's your favorite? Eggs? Pancakes?" There was a twinkle in her eyes. "Donuts? Those are supposed to be the old cop standby."

Horatio chuckled. "Whatever you decide is fine, Mari."

She studied his face a moment longer, then nodded decisively. "You...are definitely an omelet kind of a guy." She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I'll take care of it. What will you be doing?"

"I need to make a few phone calls." He needed to see if Mac had any arrangements in place. He also needed to call his team and let them know his return would be delayed.

"Okay then." She slid off the bed and retrieved the cup, still smiling. "You make your phone calls. I'll get started."

Horatio nodded, then reached for the cell phone he'd left on the nightstand the night before. He debated, then clicked a specific number. He waited until the click that signaled a pick-up, then set it to his ear. "Eric."

_"Hey H. What's up? You meet your friend yet?"_ Eric's voice sounded relaxed, as if he'd had a good nights sleep as well.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Unfortunately, there seems to be a problem with the paperwork. I'm afraid my return trip is going to be delayed by about a week. Maybe as long as ten days."

_"Clerical error?"_

"It seems the files got misplaced somewhere, and they haven't been put into the system electronically yet, either."

_"I see. They got mislaid."_ There was a hint of laughter in Eric's tone, as if he'd guessed what was really going on. _"Well, I guess there's no help for it. You'll just have to stay there and keep an eye on the witness until things get sorted out. I'll let Calleigh and the others know."_

"Thank you."

_"So...this girl got a name? So I can tell the others who to expect."_

Horatio smiled. He knew well enough what the younger CSI was thinking. He wanted to get used to his sister's new name before she arrived home. "Maria. Maria Espinoza."

_"Maria Espinoza. Sounds nice."_ There was a rustle on the end of the line, as if Eric were turning to listen to something. _"H, I gotta go. Listen, call me when you know anything. And H..._" There was a brief pause, and when Eric spoke again, a note of humor in his voice. _"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, or anything that might make Alexx scold you, okay?"_

Horatio chuckled. The list of things Eric wouldn't do was considerably shorter than his own. "I think I can manage that."

_"Great. I'll talk to you later."_ There was a click, and the line went dead.

Horatio smiled as he snapped the phone closed. In the other room, he could hear the hiss of the stove-top, and when he tilted his head back, the smell of eggs, ham, cheese and onions hit him, mixed with spices he knew Marisol liked using in cooking. The smell reminded him of how little he'd eaten, or wanted to eat, over the past several weeks.

He stepped into the bathroom, ran a hand through his disordered red hair, smoothing it down at least a little. Then he went back into the bedroom and collected his shirt, throwing it over his shoulders and fastening about half the buttons before he entered the main apartment area.

Marisol was standing in the kitchen, frying pan in hand and spatula in the other. Like him, she was wearing the clothing she'd worn yesterday, rumpled from the night of sleep. Horatio glanced at the clock. Only nine. It was late for him, but he wasn't sure when his New York associates went into work. He felt a small smile twitch the corner of his mouth. He wasn't in much of a hurry.

He stood in the doorway a moment, then stepped up behind his wife. "That...smells very good."

She almost jumped, and nearly hit him in the face with the spatula. "Horatio!" Her eyes were laughing though. "Behave. Coffee's over on the far side of the counter. Do you want any orange juice or anything?"

Orange juice had been what Yelina had offered him, the day he'd gone looking for Ray. The day he'd pulled his brother's body off the rafters and watched him die. The thought of it made his stomach twist faintly. "Coffee will be just fine."

"Well then, you can set the table." She smirked up at him, daring him to protest. It was such a small thing, but it restored his equilibrium in a heartbeat. "Go on."

He returned the smile, then went and laid out two plates, two forks, two cups of coffee. He thought he remembered that she liked sugar and cream, and knew he did, so he set them both on the table. Then, on a whim, he located the bread and set about making toast. He was just buttering the last slice when arms seized him from behind. "That...smells pretty good."

He chuckled. "Thank you." He set the toast on the plate and turned in her grip, looking into her eyes and pulling her into his own embrace.

They held each other a moment, then she tapped him with the spatula. "Come on, or breakfast will get cold."

"Well, we can't have that." He smiled and released her. "Shall we, then?"

Breakfast was a quiet affair. They chatted, made small talk, discussing what they could expect of New York weather, and how it might affect their plans. They were just finishing up when a knock on the door interrupted them. Horatio blinked, then rose from the table. "I'll be right back. Stay here, please."

The man at the door was a young man, African American, with an open, pleasant face. He waited patiently while Horatio opened the door, then smiled. "Lieutenant Caine? Mac Taylor sent me." He held out a hand. "Sheldon Hawkes."

"Yes, I remember. The medical examiner. We've worked together a few times." Horatio relaxed, then stepped aside to let the young man in. "What can I do for you?"

"It isn't about that. It's what Mac and I are doing for you, and your lady." Sheldon smiled. "I heard from Stella and Mac. You two have had a rough time."

"We have, though things seem to be improving." Horatio nodded. "You said you intended to do something about that?"

"Intended to, and have." Sheldon smiled again, and held out a set of car keys and rental papers. "Here. Registered under a new name, and paid with a department issued credit card. Rent's good for a month if needed, and we used a company with a national chain, and branches in Miami." he shrugged. "You get done with it, you turn it in there, no fuss."

"Thank you." The kindness of the gesture made Horatio feel warm inside. The camaraderie was so similar to his team's, even though these CSI's were near strangers.

"That isn't everything." Sheldon grinned. "Here." He handed Horatio a credit card. "Good for five thousand. Can't be traced to you or anyone else. And...as a belated wedding gift from your New York brethren..." He smirked, and handed over two watches. One was slightly more feminine than the other, but there was no doubt they were a set. "New watches. Coincidentally, they're wired with GPS tracking. You and your lady can go anywhere you like, and we'll find you if we need to. Or if you need us to. Your Miami guys can use this too." The smirk widened. "We sent Delko and Dusquene the numbers this morning."

"Thank you. I'm sure they'll be relieved." Horatio had to smile, knowing his entire team would have the information by lunch, and probably be checking on them.

"I'm sure they will too sir." Sheldon grinned. "And with that said, I'll let the two of you figure out a plan." He started to turn away, then turned back and presented Horatio with a folded piece of paper. His voice dropped. "Don't know what she likes, but if I were taking a special lady out for a special dinner...these are the places to go." He didn't give the older man a chance to respond, just slipped out the door.

Horatio blinked, one eyebrow going up in response. He unfolded the paper. Written on it were the names of a dozen restaurants, all high quality, serving everything from steaks to italian or greek, or even mexican food. He scanned the list. These were restaurants he'd heard of, but never been in unless he was chasing a suspect, or a lead. They were all the types of places you wore formal attire to.

He remembered the dinner reservations he'd canceled in Miami, and his mind jumped to a specific name on the list. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, made a quick call. "Good morning. Yes, I'm calling to ask...you wouldn't happen to have a reservation open for this evening, by chance." He let a bit of long-suffering concern seep into his tone. "I am aware it's a bit sudden, however...it's rather important. My wife...we were preparing to celebrate our honeymoon when she was injured and rushed to the emergency room." He didn't elaborate on the circumstances, but he didn't need to. He could hear the sympathy in the voice on the other end of the line. "Yes, she's recovered now, and I thought I'd make it up to her. You came very well recommended by a friend of mine." He paused, listening, and felt a smile cross his lips. "Thank you very much. How about...eight this evening?" He took a quick glance at the card he'd been given, gave the restaurant operator the name printed on it. "Thank you very much. Yes, of course, I'll call immediately if there's a problem." He snapped the phone closed.

Marisol was washing the dishes when he re-entered the kitchen. She turned when he stepped through the door. "Was it anything serious?"

"Not at all." He smiled. "Just some gifts from our friends in New York." He shuffled the bundle in his hands. "They wanted us to have these." He showed her the watches.

They were both metal, hers a pure silver colored stainless steel, his washed with the darker blue tones. Hers was smaller than his, with lighter links, but the general designs were almost the same.

"They look nice." She smiled, set the last of the dishes into the sink, then turned to take hers from him. Horatio shifted his grip, then gently took her hand and slipped the watch into place, snapping the clasp lightly closed. She smiled, then shifted her hand so she was grasping his arm. "My turn."

He watched as she unclipped his usual timepiece, setting it to one side, then slipped the metal band over his wrist. It was cool against his skin, but the fit was good, and as she snapped the clasp shut, the watch didn't slide. Someone had taken very careful note of what size watch he wore. Her fingers lingered on his wrist, gentle and light. He looked up, feeling the smile that seemed to want to ingrain itself to his features. "It's a good fit."

"It is." She reached up to brush his cheek, then smiled mischievously. "So then...what happens now? Got any plans?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I do have a few ideas." He returned the smile. "We can stay here if you want, however..." He turned his gaze to the keys he was holding. "It appears we've been given a car, and some money, and I think we should make good use of them."

"Oh?" her eyebrow went up. "And what do you consider good use?"

He had to chuckle slightly at her tone. "Well, I was thinking...we could take a ferry to Ellis Island for today. If we leave now, we should be back by mid-afternoon. And then...I thought we might take some time shopping."

"Shopping?" Now she was looking at him incredulously. "My brother says no man ever likes to go shopping."

"Well...it's a special case." His smile widened. "I happen to have dinner reservations with a very beautiful young lady, but I didn't bring anything to wear for the event, and I was hoping you'd help me pick something out."

"Dinner reservations?" She blinked at him. "And where would that be, Lieutenant Caine?" The twinkle in her eyes let him know she was joking.

"I was thinking...how about this one?" He showed her the list Sheldon had given him, and tapped his choice. He turned her head to meet her eyes. "If there's something else you'd like better, sweetheart, just tell me."

"No. I think it's perfect." her eyes were sparkling. "So...what time are these dinner reservations?"

"Eight tonight." He met her eyes.

Her eyes were shining with more than amusement. She reached up to brush a hand across his face, a gentle caress so full of love and tenderness that it almost made him melt on the spot. "I'll be sure not to miss this time."

"I know. I'm going to be right beside you today. I won't leave you." He took her hand, holding it gently, letting the emotions wash over both of them, the sheer joy and relief that they were alive, and had at least this time together. Then he let a small smile wash across his features, and held out a hand. "So...shall we?"

**8888888888**

They left the apartment an hour later, both dressed for the cooler weather of New York in long coats. Marisol was wearing jeans and a simple, elegant shirt. Horatio stuck to his dress shirt and slacks, though he left off the suit jacket. It took a little effort to find the car Sheldon had left in the lot for them. The car turned out to be a newer model Ford sedan, comfortable instead of high speed, in a silver-gray color. The interior proved to be comfortable and roomy, and a quick inspection revealed air bags, cup holders, a radio that would also play CD's, and a few other amenities, including heated seats. Horatio raised an eyebrow. He'd been appreciative of the car, but all the perks were a welcome addition. He waited as Marisol settled into the passenger seat, then smiled. "Here we go."

The trip to the Ellis Island ferry took about forty-five minutes. Horatio parked the car, while Marisol bought two tickets. The ride itself was enjoyable, though he had to admit, he liked the salt spray in Miami better. It was a lot colder here. But it also gave him another reason to pull his wife close, hold her to him, and he took the opportunity the moment he spotted her shivering.

They toured the Statue of Liberty for over an hour, looking at all the history notes, the displays, then taking the ride to the top, as far as they could go. The view was spectacular, as magnificent as any he'd seen in Miami. And, he had to admit, far easier to access. The last time he'd had that kind of view, he'd climbed to a roof of a Miami skyscraper. They stood for a long moment, then Marisol grinned and pulled herself close to him, and snapped a picture with her phone camera. Horatio raised an eyebrow, and she smiled cheekily at him. "It doesn't matter what the circumstances are, you have to have pictures on a honeymoon."

"Is that right?" He smiled, then removed his own phone from his pocket, and took another.

By they time they took the return ferry, it was past lunchtime. Horatio steered them to a restaurant he remembered, near the shopping district. They had sandwiches and drinks under an awning, relaxing and enjoying the cooler air. Marisol finished hers first, then smiled. "So, where to next?"

"Well, I guess we go shopping." He knew of several places that sold the attire he was looking for, but he'd never had cause to search for clothing for a lady. "Did you...have some place you wanted to go?"

"Nope." Marisol's eyes were sparkling. She reached across and took his hand. "How about I simply follow you around, and when I see something interesting, I'll let you know."

"All right." Horatio paid the tab, then rose and held out his hand. "Shall we?" She took his hand, and let him lead her to the shopping district.

The area was crowded, making him slightly nervous. Normally, he would simply have gone to the shop of his choice, found what he was looking for, then left as quickly as possible. As a CSI, he'd learned a long time ago not to be fond of crowds. But...he looked down at Marisol's hand, wrapped gently around his.

Marisol saw his glance. She smiled, mischief glinting in her eyes. "You look nervous." She smirked, and tilted her head to look him in the eyes. "So...is Eric right after all? I guess men really don't like to go shopping."

"Well, it's just that I'm not used to having such an attractive companion." He returned her smile.

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good answer." She looked down the boulevard lined with shops. "So, what are we looking for?"

"Well, I have a few places I usually go to, but I'm not sure where to take you. So how about...we'll just do things your way?" He held out his arm.

The first shop they visited had plenty of suits that would have served his purpose, but there was nothing for her, so they continued. It wasn't until his fourth stop that Marisol tapped his arm. "That looks like my kind of place." She smiled, pointing across the way to a clothing boutique with colorful, classy dresses in the windows.

"All right. Do you want me to come with you?"

She cocked her head, still smiling with a teasing expression. "I don't think that's really your style. Why don't you go there..." She pointed to the shop he'd been aiming for. "I'll go there, and we can meet in the middle when we're done?"

"All right. Let me know if you need anything." He didn't want to let her out of his sight, remembering the hour that had so nearly destroyed them both. Still, she was a grown woman, and he knew he couldn't smother her. That had, in fact, been a major point in their relationship, that he'd been willing to give her the freedom to do what she wanted to do with her life. Marisol flashed him a bright smile, then strode away, disappearing through the door of the shop she'd chosen. Horatio blinked, then sighed, bemused, and went to find a dress suit.

There was a large selection of suits in his size. He considered black, but then shook his head. He'd worn black for grief since Ray's death, and Marisol's arranged funeral, and he wanted neither memory with him for the evening. He moved on, shifting idly through the suits until he found a gray one that looked good. It was a medium gray, slate in color, but the threads had a silky, subtle metallic sheen to them, a kind of understated shimmer. A quick check revealed that the jacket was just his size, and it wasn't that hard to find a pair of trousers that went with it. After quick consideration, he chose a blue dress shirt to go with it, a color close to his own eye color. He paid for the purchases with the card Sheldon had given him, testing to see if it was activated. To his relief, it went through with no trouble. Then he took his purchases, and went outside to wait.

Marisol emerged from her chosen shop half an hour later, a long bag slung over one arm. She had a very satisfied smile on her face. She came over, threaded her free arm through his. "So, did you find what you were looking for?"

"I did." He smiled. "And you?"

"I did." She smirked up at him. "However, you are going to have to wait until dinner to see."

"I see." He glanced at his watch. It was almost six. "Well, given the time, I suggest we go get ready."

Marisol smirked at him. "You just want to see what I bought."

He chuckled. "That too." He held out an arm. "Shall we?"

Back at the apartment, they separated to take their showers. Horatio would willingly have taken a shower with her, but Marisol shoved him playfully toward the guest room. "You're supposed to be my guard. Besides..." She smiled at him. "I don't want you to peek." He laughed, then collected his bag and went to the bathroom.

It took him a little less than an hour to shower, shave and dress. To his relief, the suit fit every bit as well as he'd expected it to. The dress shirt was a little long in the cuffs, but easily adjusted. He dressed, cleaned the worst of the dirt off of his shoes, then stepped into the hall. Marisol was already waiting, her coat on and her bag slung over her shoulder. She looked him over as he entered, and nodded. "Very nice."

"I...could say the same." The long coat did nothing to hide her slim figure. She'd taken time to arrange her hair, and put on earrings and make-up. "You look great."

She laughed. "And you haven't even seen the dress yet." She looked up at the clock. "Our reservation is in half an hour. We should get going."

"That we should." He led her from the apartment, then stepped out into the street to hail a cab. They had a perfectly good car, but...he thought he might have a glass of wine with his meal, if they had any good ones, and he was too much an officer of the law to even think about driving after a drink. Fortunately, the first car he waved down stopped for him. The driver was friendly, and very good at his job, and got them to the restaurant with plenty of time to spare. Horatio gave him a large tip.

The doorkeeper held open the door for them, and there was a young man in the entrance, ready to take their coats. Horatio handed over his, then turned to take Marisol's. His breath caught in his throat.

The dress she'd chosen was knee length, a deep teal color that brought out the darkness of her hair, the tone of her skin, the brightness of her eyes. It was low cut, though not low enough to cause trouble, then gathered at the waist to accent her figure, before falling to a flowing skirt. The sleeves were short, and both sleeves and hem were decorated with metallic embroidery, in the form of curling vines, which also snaked around the collar. She'd been beautiful even in plain clothing. Dressed like that...Horatio felt his heart speed up and his breathing slow down.

Marisol let him stare for a moment, then smiled mischievously and put a hand to his chin. "I take it you like the dress."

Horatio swallowed against the dryness in his throat, looking over the outfit, then back into her eyes. "You look...absolutely amazing." He looked away, flushing a little at his own reactions, then smiled at her and held out his arm. "May I escort you to your table, ma'am?"

"Of course you may." She took his arm.

He'd gotten them reservations in a balcony seat of the restaurant, in a quiet corner. He let her choose the wine, and took a glass. It was a red, and one of his favorites. Both of them took their time in ordering, and the waiter left them to their own devices. Marisol looked around. "Dinner in one of New York's finest restaurants. Horatio, this is amazing."

"Not nearly as amazing as you are, sweetheart." He smiled across the table at her.

She smiled. "So...what happens after dinner?"

Horatio smiled. "Well...then we go back to your place, and plan the rest of our honeymoon."

The smile widened, and she reached across to take his hand. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

They lingered for an hour over dinner, sipping the wine and enjoying the meal. The food was every bit as good as the restaurant's reputation had made it out to be, and the wait-staff was excellent. The waiter even presented them with a fine selection of desserts, on the house, as a gift of congratulations from the manager. Marisol chose a chocolate confection, which they shared over a second glass of wine. Horatio paid with the card, left a generous tip with the travel cash he'd brought from Miami, then asked the management to call for a cab. He was pleasantly surprised to find they had cab waiting within ten minutes. He left the doorman another tip, then handed Mari inside and directed the cabbie to take them back to the apartment.

Half an hour later, they unlocked the door. Marisol hung up her jacket, then turned and took his face gently in her hands, and kissed him lightly. "Horatio, that was wonderful."

He smiled back, enjoying her exuberance. "It was, wasn't it?" His hand touched hers gently. "I hope you'll accept it as my apology, for canceling on you." He felt the smile die out of his eyes.

She turned back to him, taking his hands again. "Horatio...you have nothing to apologize for. It wasn't your fault." She looked him in the eyes for a long moment, then a small smile crept back onto her face. "And dinner...was _very_ satisfactory. However...I do believe we have some planning to do. Or at least...that was the impression I received from a certain gentleman." She smirked lightly at him, her eyes alight with mischief.

The smile on her face brought an answering one to his. "So we do. How about, we both change into something more comfortable, and I'll tell you the ideas I had." He'd been thinking of things all day, putting together rough game plans in his mind. But he wanted her opinions on them. After all, it was her honeymoon as well as his, and he wanted everything to be perfect for her.

"That sounds excellent." Her smirk widened just a fraction. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

Horatio chuckled, then shed his jacket, shoes and tie in the spare bedroom. He changed into the sleeping clothing he'd brought, then stepped into the other room. Marisol was already curled up on the bed, wearing a nightgown. She smiled. "So, sit down and tell me all about these ideas."

Horatio settled down on the bed beside her, and she curled onto his shoulder. They sat in silence for a few moments, savoring each others warmth and company, then she tilted her head up to look at him. "So...what did you have in mind?"

Horatio nodded slowly. "Well, first of all...you said you wanted to see a Broadway Musical. So, I was wondering what you had in mind."

"Hmmm...something funny. Lighthearted. Or...maybe something like Cats." She smiled up at him, her hand curled over his chest in a loving gesture. "_You_ need something humorous. Or else, something with absolutely _no_ human drama whatsoever." She smirked.

He felt a gentle answering laugh echo through his chest, and knew from the widening smile on her face that she did too. "In that case, sweetheart, I'll check with the musical companies first thing in the morning. However, if it's all right with you, I thought we might catch the performance at the end of the week."

"That sounds fine. So, what did you have in mind for the rest of the week?" She was studying him, a slightly serious look on her face. "We could just stay here and relax."

"We could." He nodded.

She sighed. "But that isn't what you were thinking."

He smiled again. "Well, not exactly. I was thinking...you said you wanted to travel. And I was wondering, if you'd ever seen Niagara Falls."

"No. I haven't even left Florida before now." She looked at him. "Horatio..."

"It's about a day's drive from here. If you want to sweetheart, we can go right to the border. And I was thinking...maybe a three day trip. One day up, one day to tour, and one day back. Plenty of time left for musicals and sight-seeing in New York. Or even for stopping at scenic landmarks, if you want." He looked into her eyes. "How does that sound?"

"Horatio..." She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Can we?"

"We can. We have the GPS locators, and the CSI teams for both New York and Miami have a way to contact us." He held her gaze, his hand tracing lightly over hers. "All I have to do is call and tell them."

"I...but, Horatio, I don't have a passport." She was still staring at him.

"We can stay on the American side, sweetheart." He ran his hand gently across her face. "Of course...if you'd rather stay here, Mari..."

"No." She raised a hand to cover his lips. "No...I want...I want to go, it's just..." She laughed a little shakily. "It's just...travel plans, and everything...I never thought, when I asked you if we could have a honeymoon, that you'd...that you could plan something like this." She looked a little stunned. "Is this...is it really okay? I mean, with everything..."

"It is." He held her eyes, letting no sign of doubt creep through. "I've got it covered, sweetheart." He did too. He already knew, from text messages exchanged with Mac and Stella, that the New York team would cover their absence with a plausible excuse if one was needed, though he doubted it would be.

"Horatio..." She smiled at him, her hand moving from below his mouth to the side of his face. Then she leaned forward, kissing him deeply. Then she leaned back, a smile in her eyes. "It sounds wonderful." She traced the side of his face gently with her fingers, before settling back against him. "So...when do you want to leave?"

"Well, we need to pack, and to check on those musicals tomorrow, so...I was thinking, the day after that." He looked into her eyes, his own hand moving almost involuntarily to pull her against him. "How does that sound?"

She studied him a moment, then nodded. "It sounds perfect. Of course..." She smiled, a glitter of mischief in her eyes. "In that case, we should both..." She paused to curl closer to him under the sheets, her hands urging him to relax and settle in beside her. "...get plenty of sleep. I think tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

"You know, I think you're right." Horatio smiled and put out the light, then allowed her to pull him closer. He wasn't used to sleeping so close to someone, but the warmth, and her arms wrapped gently around his torso, felt right. He settled in, brushed her hair back with a gentle thumb across her face, then kissed her lightly. "Good night sweetheart." Then he relaxed against the pillows, and let the soft sound of her breathing lull him to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5: Travel and Music

**Chapter Five: Traveling and Music**

They spent the next day planning, and doing some last minute shopping for things they thought they wanted to take on the trip. Horatio checked and discovered, to Marisol's delight, that _CATS_ was playing. It took some work, but Horatio managed to secure two seats for the Saturday performance. They were practically in the nosebleed section of the theater, but neither of them minded, particularly since they'd both purchased binoculars for their trip.

Packing wasn't too difficult. Most of Horatio's things were still in his suitcase. Marisol had a few outfits, but not all that much. Horatio left her to do the packing, at her insistence, while he called Mac and squared things with him. Afterward, Marisol fixed steaks, with her special seasonings, and Horatio made a quick salad. The had a quiet, cozy dinner, then retired for an early night.

The next morning, Marisol fixed pancakes and bacon for breakfast while Horatio took the bags out to the car. Then both of them settled down for a quiet, unhurried breakfast. Horatio downed three pancakes, somewhat to his own surprise. He washed the last bite down with some coffee, then rose from the table to gather Marisol into his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Breakfast was great, sweetheart."

Marisol laughed. "Horatio! Now I've got syrup on my face." Then she cocked her head back over her shoulder, to look him in the eyes. "But I'm glad you liked breakfast." She turned in his arms, then kissed him lightly on the jaw. "So, whose turn is it to do the dishes?"

Horatio smiled. "I'll take care of it, Mari." He kissed her again, then released her and stepped away to gather the plates.

It only took him a few minutes to wash everything and put it away. Marisol used the time to pack a small box of snacks and bottled water. Horatio peered inside to see several bottles of regular and flavored water, granola bars, beef jerky, and a few other snacks. "Looks great." he glanced around the kitchen one last time to make sure everything was in order. "Do you have everything you want?"

"Hmmm...books, stereo, snacks, clothing..." Marisol ticked off the items on her fingers. Then she smiled up at him and moved forward to caress his jaw with a light touch. "A handsome, caring husband...what more could a girl ask for?"

He took her hand gently in his own, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want." He leaned in and kissed her, her passionate response erasing the last of the lingering cold in his gut. He was happy to respond in kind, pulling her closer. Then she pulled away, smiling breathlessly. "Well...that was nice. But we'd better go, if we want to get to our destination at a decent hour."

She smirked at him, and he found himself returning the smile. "I'll get our coats." He got his own, and held hers while she shrugged into it. Then he picked up the box of snack and gestured to the door. "I'm right behind you, Mari."

It was a little awkward, getting the door shut, but they managed. Five minutes later, the snacks were settled in the back seat of the car. Horatio settled himself in the driver's seat, and Marisol arranged herself on the passenger side. They'd agreed for Horatio to drive, since he was more familiar with the roads, and Marisol still tired easily. He buckled his seat-belt, and watched Marisol buckle hers, then settle herself into a more comfortable position. "Ready, sweetheart?"

Her response was to flash him a bright, impish smile. "Take it away, handsome!" Horatio grinned, backed the car out, and sent them on their way.

Getting through the New York traffic took them nearly an hour. Horatio could have escaped the city traffic faster, but they weren't in a big hurry. Instead, they turned it into an impromptu tour, both of them pointing out places they knew, or had read about, and the ones they thought looked interesting for a visit when they returned.

Finally, they cleared the city. They drove for a while through the suburbs, then reached the open highway. Both of them got comfortable, then Horatio set the cruise control and allowed himself to relax and enjoy the scenery. He liked Miami, with the Everglades, the beach and the sun, but the open areas of New York seemed greener somehow. Besides, it was a gorgeous day for driving. The sky was clear, and a perfect, brilliant shade of blue. Everything was green, and while the air temperature was a little cool for his preferences, it wasn't cold enough to require a jacket.

Beside him, Marisol lounged back in the seat, watching the scenery flash by. Horatio watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Everything, all right? Do you need anything, Mari?"

She turned to face him with a wide smile on her face. "Horatio, this is wonderful. It's absolutely perfect."

He nodded, watching her slender for as she changed positions, tucking one foot under the opposite knee. "I think...you're absolutely right." He offered her a smile, then turned his attention back to the road.

They drove for a few hours, then picked up a lunch in a small town, and took it to a rest stop picnic area they'd seen signs for. They found a spot under the trees and settled in, eating their lunch, and enjoying the quiet and the temperature. After they'd finished eating, Marisol went to the station and emerged with a guide book. They spent half an hour or so looking up sites they might want to visit on their trip, then gathered up their trash and disposed of it. Just before they returned to the car, Marisol pulled out a camera she'd bought and snapped a picture. She surveyed it thoughtfully. "Handsome as ever. I think green really suits you."

Horatio smiled, then stepped forward to run his fingers through her hair and dislodge a leaf. "I think...I think everything suits you, beautiful." His voice was low, husky, but he didn't bother to try and control it. He was too happy to care. He'd had nightmares where saving Marisol had simply been a dream, even ones where he'd dug out her coffin, trying to pretend it wasn't real, only to find her body inside. But now...he could feel the cold fear in his gut thawing in the realization that the nightmares were nothing more than ill dreams.

Marisol blushed at his comment. "Flatterer." She smiled, then pushed him gently to the car. "Come on. You got me all excited, and we need to get on the road, if we're going to make any of these stops today." Horatio laughed, and followed her.

They drove for the rest of the afternoon, except for a couple stops that Marisol had marked on the map, and stops for gas and to stretch their legs. One location Marisol had marked was a little off their route, but Horatio didn't mind. He made sure to warn Mac, who'd been apprised of their travel plans, then took Marisol to the place she'd requested, a small museum. Afterward, they continued on their trip, Marisol happily immersed in a book she'd bought in the museum gift shop.

It was late when they finally arrived at the designated hotel, but not too late. Horatio had made reservations the day before, so they only had to sign in. Horatio collected the keys, paying with the credit card under the assumed name, then parked the car and carried their bags up to their room. Despite the accumulated stiffness and weariness of an all-day trip, Horatio felt perfectly content with the way the day had gone. Marisol looked as if she felt exactly the same. They made a light dinner out of the rest of their road snacks and drinks from the vending machine, then turned in. Horatio fell asleep with Marisol cradled against him under the sheets, perfectly relaxed. He was asleep before he even had time to think about it.

The next morning saw them both up early. Horatio felt invigorated. He hadn't gotten so many nights sleep in a row since...he couldn't remember it. Probably not in years, since the first time he'd thought Raymond had died. Possibly longer. He pushed that thought away as Marisol came up to embrace him.

He and Marisol dressed warmly, but comfortably, then went downstairs to enjoy the Continental breakfast the hotel served. It wasn't large, but Horatio enjoyed making waffles for both of them, while Marisol raised an eyebrow and shivered with quiet laughter. Then they got coffee, his black, hers with cream and sugar, and sat down to enjoy breakfast. They lingered over waffles with syrup, and warm coffee, talking over their day, their plans and so forth. Finally, when they were both full and happy, not to mention warm, they put their dishes in the trash and made their way to the Falls.

It took an hour to drive over, and the parking lot was full, but it was worth it. Horatio and Marisol stood on one of the many viewing spots near the rim, a little way down from the falls, marveling at the majestic sight. They had an excellent view of the Horseshoe Falls, and the Bridal Veil Falls. Marisol took several pictures, then made a considering face and turned the camera on Horatio. She snapped a picture, then smiled at the result. "That's my hero." She grinned and turned the camera toward him.

Horatio blinked at the image of himself, silhouetted by the falls and the clear sky, wind and spray blowing his red hair and his trench-coat as he stood near the railing. He studied it for a moment, then took the camera gently from her and snapped his own picture. Marisol, surrounded by sun-touched sky and mist, in her brightly colored top and her dark jacket, hair blowing across her face in wild tangles.

"Horatio!" She laughed and snatched the camera back, blushing slightly. "Honestly, I must look awful. All my hair's in my face..." Her words stopped as Horatio put his arms around her, enfolding her gently in his embrace.

"You look breathtaking sweetheart." He pulled her close, to rest his chin on her shoulder, and she leaned back into his grip.

They stayed like that, watching the falls, until the chill in the air and the dampness drove them away. After that, they took a long rambling tour, to see the falls in more detail. They both found the ship that sailed near the falls fascinating, but neither of them had passports, and Horatio was well aware that Marisol's immune system was fragile, though he didn't say so. Instead, they agreed to admire it from afar. In compensation, Marisol went to the gift shop and bought as many books as she could find about the local history and legends, including the one central to the ship, 'The Legend of the Maiden of the Mist'. She also bought a cook book, for recipes to try on him. Horatio laughed. "You can use me as your guinea pig any time. Or, just draft Eric. I'm sure he'll love it."

Marisol snickered. "Eric likes Southern and Mexican food better. Or Cuban. You know how he is."

"I do." He smiled, and led her from the shop.

They ate at a nice restaurant, overlooking the falls. After lunch they enjoyed a bit of a road trip, driving down river to see Ontario, then back up to Eerie. They did a little exploration, picking different vantage points to study the Niagara Gorge. Afterward, they had dinner at a nice restaurant, and returned to the hotel. That night, Marisol read Horatio the story of the Maiden of the Mist. Horatio sat, listening to her mesmerizing voice, a lump in his throat. He tried to contain his emotion, but Marisol noticed, and set the book aside. "Horatio, what is it?"

"Nothing sweetheart." He reached up to brush aside her hair, thinking of the Maiden in the story. The girl who had gone over the cliffs to an unknown fate, for her family, for her heart. He reached over and hugged his wife. "You...are my Maiden of the Mist."

Marisol reached up to brush his face. "Does that make you the river god?"

"For you sweetheart...anything you like."

Marisol chuckled. "At least I didn't have to sneak out and jump over a cliff for you. Eric would have had a fit."

Horatio found a laugh to offer her as well. "That's true." He brushed her face with his hand. "You should rest, Mari. We have a long day tomorrow."

"I know." She smiled and snuggled into his shoulder. "You'll rest too, right?"

"I will." He turned out the lamp, then settled in beside her. Still, his thoughts kept circling around the story.

That they'd met and fallen in love was luck, and mutual feeling. Still...she _had_ jumped over a cliff, in a way. Stopping her cancer treatments, being targeted by the Mala Noche, nearly dying...she'd given up her identity for him, and would spend months, if not years, in hiding. She had lost a great deal, even in the short time they'd been married. He knew that she was determined to make the best of it, and focus on the fact that they still had each other, and Eric and the CSI team. Focus on the fact that she could make new friends, explore new career paths. But in many ways, she was very much like the maiden in the story. As for him...a small cold knot tightened in his gut, the harsh voice of his conscience reminding him that he still hadn't told her what he had done, in Brazil. Or to rescue his nephew. He pushed the thoughts away and closed his eyes, but sleep was a long time in coming.

They took the next day for the drive back, stopping at the places Marisol had highlighted. Horatio felt tired. His night had been restless, his dreams uneasy, though he'd been grateful to have avoided the screaming nightmares that had woken them both their first night together. Marisol was happy, and a cup of coffee to wake him, coupled with that knowledge, soon put him to rights once more. By the time they made their second stop and picked up lunch, he was feeling cheerful again, and had almost managed to forget his uneasiness.

It was almost midnight when they arrived back at the apartment. Both of them were tired, and not a little stiff. Marisol took a hot shower, while Horatio texted Mac to let him know they'd returned to New York. He was surprised by the return message, not ten minutes later. 'Good to know. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.' He smiled, then turned as he heard the water shut off. Moments later, Marisol came to the doorway, hair wrapped in a towel. "Hey."

"Hey." He stepped forward, looking into her eyes. "You look tired, sweetheart."

"Ummm. So do you." Her fingers traced his face. "Perhaps we should both get to bed."

Horatio nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think...that is an excellent idea." He leaned forward to kiss her lightly, then pulled away. "You go ahead sweetheart. I'll join you in a minute." Marisol nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. Horatio turned to the guest room, to change. He remained there, thinking, then shook the thoughts away and went to join his wife.

**8888888888**

They spent the next two days simply relaxing, taking in the sights of New York, doing a bit more shopping, at a more leisurely pace. Marisol enjoyed it, and so did Horatio. They'd hardly ever appeared together in public in Miami. He was too well known as a CSI. And they'd both been conscious of the potential scandal, seeing that her brother was his subordinate, and he'd bailed her out of drug charges on their second meeting. To be able to stroll the streets with her, laughing and talking and window shopping, was liberating. Despite his usual lack of fondness for crowds, he enjoyed being with her. He found himself relaxing, simply content to enjoy the moment.

He knew it wouldn't last. He could tell, in the quiet of the apartment, that Marisol was waiting. Waiting for him to open up, to tell her what had happened. He knew he had to, at some point. He couldn't ask her to stay with him without telling her, not with everything he'd done. But the words kept sticking in his throat, and he couldn't seem to bring the topic up on his own. He didn't want to spoil such a time of peace and relaxation with the memories of blood and violence. So instead, he let the silence be, offering her apologetic smiles in place of explanations. Marisol, for her part, seemed to accept that, offering him a smile, and a caress in return.

Saturday, they had an easy day in the apartment. They were planning to leave Sunday afternoon, or Monday morning, whichever they felt like. But Saturday night was the musical, and they were both looking forward to it. Horatio hadn't been to a musical before, on Broadway or off. When Marisol asked him what they were like, he simply shrugged. "I don't know."

Marisol blinked. "You mean..."

"I haven't been. My family..." He hesitated on the words, swallowed, then continued. "Let's just say, it wasn't something we did."

Marisol nodded, her eyes clouding at his hesitation. "But afterward..."

Horatio managed a light laugh. "Afterward, I was very involved in my work. I'm sure Eric's told you what I'm like at the office." Marisol nodded. "That...hasn't changed since my first job at the NYPD."

She studied him a moment, then smiled and moved forward to loop an arm through his. "Well then, we'll both get to enjoy a new experience together, won't we?"

"Indeed." They leaned together in silent companionship for a moment, before separating.

They left the apartment two hours before the musical, hoping for plenty of time to eat and find their seats before the show began. Horatio wore the silver-gray suit he'd worn to dinner that first evening, and Marisol responded by wearing the same teal dress. They stopped at a nice little restaurant they'd found the day before, and enjoyed a quiet steak dinner with a glass of wine each. Horatio called a cab for them, and they were dropped off with half an hour before the show started. Horatio secured a program for each of them, then led Marisol to the seats in the upper section of the theater. They sat together, speaking quietly and going over the program as the theater gradually filled around them, then settled into silence as the lights went down and the curtain went up.

The musical was, in Horatio's opinion, a definite success. He had to chuckle at the drama of having the Cats come down the aisles, in the lower section of seats, but it was a nice touch. His whole life had been devoted to finding answers, waving away smoke and mirrors, but he was determined to ignore it for the evening, and as the play went on, the music and the on-stage action helped him become immersed, and forget.

The first song, 'Jellicle Ball' had him smiling in bemusement, wondering idly what the difference between a 'Jellicle Cat' and a normal one was. The song 'Memory' evoked a deep loneliness and nostalgia in him. Marisol sensed it, he knew, because her fingers crept over to intertwine with his and her head came to rest on his shoulder, giving him a sense of warmth that eased the ache. Her presence reminded him that he was not alone, and helped him relax.

'McCavity' reminded him rather forcefully of some of the criminals he'd known. They were sneaky bastards. And most of them covered their tracks, ran away, disappeared into the underside of Miami. He'd had to handle a few mastermind criminals in his time, and it was both a challenge and the ultimate nuisance to try to catch them. Mala Noche and Riaz had been the latest. He swallowed, then forced himself to pay more attention to the music.

'Rum Tum Tigger' and 'Magic Mr. Mistoffeles' both had him smiling and laughing. Particularly the magician cat. He wasn't sure if the wild acrobatics were real, but that didn't stop them from being impressive, from his seats. When the leader of the cats was recovered, and the 'Memory' cat was chosen to receive revival, he clapped with the rest of the audience, and he was more than happy to deliver a standing ovation at the end of the performance.

Finally, after three encores and a few minutes to let the rest of the crowd filter away, they were able to leave the theater. He'd thought getting a cab would be hard, but cabbies were well used to and well aware of Saturday performance nights, and the money that could be made. It only took a few minutes to get a cab, and give out the destination. He had a feeling the cabby was taking the long route, but he hardly cared. He was content to sit in the back, Marisol curled up next to him, and enjoy the lingering satisfaction at the success of attending the weekend, and how right this week had been. They'd have to get back into things soon, but sitting in the silence, his wife next to him...everything was good.

**_Author's Note:_**_ So...a quiet little honeymoon for our two lovebirds. _


	6. Chapter 6: Scars and Love

**Chapter Six: Scars and Love**

_**Author's Note: **Rating changes to M in this chapter. Nothing too explicit, but I prefer to be cautious. Yes, there is some bedroom action. These two are newly married, after all. You have been warned. That being said...I hope you enjoy.  
><em>

They entered the apartment in the semi darkness. Marisol was leaning against his arm, smiling in contentment. Horatio unlocked the door and led her inside, flicking on the dim hall light. Marisol smiled then leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Horatio, that was wonderful."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" He smiled, turned his head and kissed her softly.

Marisol's smile widened. "Meet you in the bedroom?"

Horatio reached up to stroke her cheek gently. "Sure thing, sweetheart." Marisol grinned, kissed his fingers, then slipped away, sliding the door closed behind her. Horatio watched her go, then stepped into the guest room to change into his nightwear.

Ten minutes later he knocked, then entered the bedroom. Marisol was waiting, dressed in a long light-blue night-gown. Horatio smiled and slipped into the bed beside her. Marisol smiled. "Hey there, handsome."

"Hey." He returned her smile. He shifted, getting comfortable beside her. "You know, we're going to have to go back soon."

Marisol nodded, then leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. "I know."

Horatio moved to capture one hand with his. "Did you have a good honeymoon?"

"Of course." She looked up at him, a smile curving one corner of her mouth.

"I'm glad, sweetheart." He took a deep breath. "You know, we still have tomorrow, if there's anything you still want."

"Actually..." Marisol sat up. "There are a couple things." Her voice was no longer light, but serious. Her eyes, when they met his, were dark and solemn.

Horatio swallowed. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. Still... "What's that sweetheart?"

"Well..." A small smile touched her mouth. "I would like to celebrate marriage properly, since we're both okay now. But before that..." She reached up to touch his face, cup his jaw with one hand. "Horatio...I want you to tell me what happened in Brazil. I know you don't want to talk about it, but I can tell it's been bothering you."

Horatio swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Marisol gave him another of those small, solemn smiles. "I know that it's not pretty, but, like I said before...I knew what your life was like. You never said it would be different. But..." She brushed his face again. "I want to know what's troubling you, so I can help you through it." She met his eyes. "Tell me what happened. Please."

Horatio took a deep breath. "Okay sweetheart." he took another breath, then looked away from her solemn, gentle eyes, trying to maintain his composure. Cold fear settled in his gut, but she was right. She deserved to know.

Marisol settled on the bed beside him, waiting quietly. Horatio swallowed, trying to calm himself and get his thoughts together. He was grateful that Marisol wasn't pressing him to hurry. Finally, he took a deep slow breath, and spoke. "Well, as you know, after we moved you, we arrested Riaz. And two days later...he was extradited to Brazil."

Marisol nodded. "I know. I heard from Stella."

He took another deep breath, though it did little to settle his churning gut. He was glad that his voice was steady, at least. "Eric and I followed him to Rio to press charges. Unfortunately...Riaz has friends in the government and...he was released two days later. So...Eric and I went after him."

He heard her gasp of distress. Felt her fingers catch his and intertwine with his. Oddly enough, the touch seemed to steady him a little, though his heart was aching with dread at her reaction when she'd heard what he'd done.

She waited a few moments, then spoke softly. "Horatio..."

"Sorry, Mari." he took another breath, staring sightlessly at the wall across from him, a hard lump forming in his throat. He forced it back. "As it happened...I know a few people in Rio as well. In fact, a few years ago, my brother Raymond and his family moved to Brazil. My brother Ray...used to work as an undercover narcotics cop." He left it unsaid that Ray had gotten far too involved in his work, far too enamored of it. He'd been good, but there were good reasons why a number of people suspected he'd gone dirty, and most of them he couldn't refute. He forced those thoughts away. "I thought he might know something, so...I went to see him."

Images rose, choking him in their ferocity. Old images of his brother's first funeral, then the dizzying insanity of discovering he was alive, but deep undercover. Throwing Yelina and Ray Jr aboard a plane in his brother's arms, to get him away from it all. The boy had been an adolescent, barely hitting his first growth spurts. Then newer images. Standing with Yelina in her house in Rio, watching the concern on her face. The sinking feeling when he realized Ray had fallen into his old habits, been dragged into the shady world of drug dealing once more. The sickening churn at the thought that Ray Jr was involved. The desperate race to save both brother and nephew. Too late for one, within seconds of being too late for the other.

"Horatio?" The quiet concerned question broke the tidal wave of memory. His eyes cleared, and he found Marisol had moved around the bed to look him in the eye. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay. I'm okay, Mari." He tightened his hand gently on hers, though the leaden feeling in his gut told him he didn't mean it, any more than he had when he'd said it to Ray Jr days ago, kneeling over the body of the drug dealer he'd shot to save his nephew. He took a breath, forced control over the traumatic memories. "Sorry to scare you, sweetheart."

She nodded. He could see the doubt and concern in her eyes. Her fingers gripped his. "It's okay. Horatio, if you really can't talk about this..."

He shook his head, and somewhere found the strength to offer her a small, tight smile. "It's okay. Just a little difficult."

She searched his face for a minute, then nodded. "Okay. Can you tell me what happened next?" The question was gentle, rather than demanding, and relaxed him just a little.

He nodded, breathed deep. "Well, I...I went to see Ray, but he wasn't home. Nor was his son. When I spoke to his wife...she told me he hadn't been home for several days. She had a tracking device, and it confirmed that his son was deep in Riaz' territory." He saw the surprise, and the growing, comprehending concern. "What you have to understand is...Ray Jr would do anything for his father. And Ray...Yelina thought he'd gotten involved in investigating the drug cartels. Ray was..." He swallowed, bit back the first words he found to describe his brother's behavior, and finally finished with, "Ray was very dedicated to his job."

Marisol's eyes were wide. "He didn't...not Mala Noche?" Her voice was uncertain.

Horatio shook his head. "I don't know." And he didn't. Neither he nor Yelina knew what Ray had gotten into, what he had done. His heart felt heavy, and he felt faintly sick at the memories. "All I know is that Ray was gone, and Ray Jr seemed to be trapped by Riaz, as I found out later he was. I don't know how either of them got involved." He didn't know, but he guessed. Ray had loved the thrill of danger, of the job. And he'd certainly been a user, if not an addict, of at least half a dozen substances. But that was something he didn't want to think about, didn't want to know about his own brother.

Marisol remained silent, letting him regain his composure. Finally, his thoughts settled enough for him to speak again. "Eric and I started tracking Riaz and my brother. We...picked up Raymond's trail first, on the outskirts. Unfortunately...Riaz...Riaz had already reached him." His throat locked around the words, voice threatening to crack.

Marisol's hand tightened on his, offering support and comfort. "Did you find him? Your brother?"

He managed a short, tight nod, but couldn't bear to look at her. "I did, in an abandoned hut. Riaz...beat him and left him there. And Ray...Raymond died in my arms." The words were barely louder than a whisper.

Memories crashed over him again. Ray's bloody body, hanging from the rafters. Cutting his brother down, haste warring with the need to be careful. Kneeling beside his brother while Eric went for help, any help. The futile attempt to keep his brother alive. Ray's broken request that he care for his wife and son. He'd tried to support his brother, hold him to life, but there had been no chance of it. Ray had bled out and died as he knelt there, holding his hand.

"Horatio..." He could hear Marisol's distress for him, and made a conscious effort to control himself.

Memories of Raymond's death, and the aftermath flooded his mind. He held onto them, forced them into coherence, and kept speaking. "After I...after Raymond's body was taken...I went to his wife. I was hoping Ray's son would be home but...he wasn't there. His mother...his mother used the tracking device on him." He swallowed hard. "He was still in Riaz's territory. Then he vanished. Eric and I...we couldn't get to him. So...we went after Riaz." He looked at her once, at her gentle, concerned eyes, then away. Anguish and raw shame flooded him.

Marisol's hand tightened on his arm. "Horatio...Horatio...what's wrong?" Her fingers clenched suddenly over his forearm. "Were you hurt? Was Eric...?"

"No. It's not that, sweetheart." He shook his head, took her hand gently in his. "It's not that." He met her eyes again, then drew away, the memory of blood and violence sharp and hard in his mind. He felt suddenly tainted, unwilling to touch her with his bloodstained hands. He drew himself in, folding his hands in front of him. He felt her hand on his shoulder, gentle and soothing, but she didn't touch him beyond that. He found himself both grateful for the contact and grateful that she didn't touch him any more than that. He swallowed at what came next, cold fear at her reaction forming in his gut.

He forced himself to speak. "Eric...Eric located Riaz at a helicopter pad. Riaz...pulled knives on him. When I arrived, Eric had knocked away one of the knives but...Riaz had him at a disadvantage. So I..." His throat tightened. He forced the reaction back. "I...picked up Riaz's knife, and I pulled him off of Eric. I asked him where Ray Jr was. Riaz attacked me and I...I killed Riaz."

He heard her sharply indrawn breath. "You killed Riaz."

He glanced up at her shocked expression, then away, then back. "I did." He looked away again. "He...came at me. And I...I stabbed him. It was a heart shot, under the ribs." He looked away, remembering. Remembering the cold, deadly anger that had possessed him. Red hot fury, washing over him with an intensity so powerful that it burned through him and left him frozen, hard inside. Cold, terrible fury, coalescing to vicious clarity and white rage that had possessed him until after he'd rescued Ray Jr.

"Oh." She sounded stunned. He sat still, waiting for shock to turn into horror, to fear. Waiting for her to stand up and leave, or stand up and order him to leave.

Silence fell between them, then Marisol spoke softly. "Did you find your nephew?"

Horatio nodded, swallowing. He hadn't wanted to tell her this much, certainly didn't want to tell her the rest, but it had to be done. "We did. Riaz...Riaz had assigned him as a mule, back to Miami."

"A drug mule?" Marisol sounded appalled.

Horatio nodded. "He...told my nephew that if the drugs were delivered safely, he'd spare his father." He grimaced.

Marisol made a soft sound. "But...after what happened..."

"Ray Jr didn't know. Eric and I...we tracked the drug ring. One of the other mules...the package burst, and he died. Eric took care of the others, and I...I went after Ray Jr." He took another deep breath. "My nephew...he'd found the drug runner Riaz was working with. When I arrived, they were facing off. Ray was...demanding his father. He had a gun. They both did." The image of his nephew, gun in hand, still sent cold chills up his spine.

"What did you do?"

"I...told him not to pull the trigger. I told him...that his father was gone. And in the end..." He looked up at her. "In the end...I pulled the trigger for him."

"You killed the drug handler? Shot him?"

"I did." He held her eyes a moment, then looked away, waiting for her judgment.

Images flashed through his mind. Running down Riaz's drug connection, Matos. Looking for Ray Jr. Piecing things together, still wrapped in that icy, terrible fury. Realization. Running, running to stop his nephew from dying, from crossing the irrevocable line of killing. Pounding fear beginning to crack the shell of anger around him. Pleading with his nephew to stop, words raging inside him. _Don't do this. Don't cross this line. Don't...don't become what I am. Don't do what I've done. You cannot be tainted like this. _The final burst of rage surging through him as Matos threatened his nephew. The crack of the gun firing. Watching as Matos fell, blood staining his shirt as it had stained Riaz's only two days prior. Fury replaced by emptiness, equally terrible. The realization that he had taken two lives. He knew self defense could be argued, defense of a bystander. He also knew that neither of those had anything to do with why he'd killed Riaz, and very little to do with shooting Matos. That...that had been his rage, pure and simple. He hadn't felt protective. He'd felt homicidal, and he knew the difference.

"Horatio?" Marisol's voice brought him back to the present. He looked up, to find that she'd moved around to look him in the face.

"I'm here." He looked into her eyes. "Marisol...I'm sorry."

She started a little at that. "Why?"

"Because...you deserve someone whose hands aren't stained with so much blood." He looked at his own hands. He could almost see the stains on them, the blood covering them.

"I'll decide what I deserve." She reached out, took his hand gently, stilling his nervous gestures. her fingers held him, then gently caressed his fingers, his palms. "I think it's terrible, what you had to do." He started to pull away, and she grasped his hands tighter, and looked into his eyes. "Stop that." She reached up one hand to stroke his face. "I don't like it, but it's not because you did it. It's because you had to do it. Riaz, the drug dealer...they hurt you so badly. They tried to hurt you so much worse. What you did...it's terrible, but it's not as bad as what they did to you."

Horatio swallowed at the implied forgiveness in her voice, and the clear love in it. "Maybe. But it...doesn't always feel that way." He looked away. "I...wanted them dead, Marisol."

"I know. I saw your face." She moved to sit beside him, then cupped his cheek. "Were you afraid I'd push you away for this?"

"Yes."

She smiled kindly at him. "That's foolish. I admit...hearing you talk about things like that, knowing you do things like that...it's a bit harsh. And a bit shocking. Especially on our honeymoon." Her lips quirked up, and he felt the tiniest of smiles tug at the corner of his own mouth. "But...I think I can understand it. At least a little. It's a bit scary, but...lucky me, I know how you are the rest of the time." She smiled at him. "It's okay, handsome."

Something cold and tight loosened in his chest, but couldn't entirely go away. He took a deep breath. "When I...confronted Riaz, I was angry. Violent. Like him. That anger...has been a part of me, a very long time." He closed his eyes, remembering the first time that wild, terrible fury had emerged. "Someday...I might not control it. I may...fall over the edge."

"You're really worried about that?" Marisol's voice was as quiet as his own.

"I am."

She wrapped her arm around his. "Well, I can understand, I guess. I was always afraid I'd be one of those patients who just sort of gave up. But then, this wonderful, handsome police lieutenant showed up, and he made the world come back to life for me." She sat up, then reached and turned his face to meet hers. "I promise, Horatio. If you ever slip..." She smiled and stroked his cheek. "I'll be right here to pull you back, okay?"

The warmth in her voice, in her touch and her gentle smile, thawed the cold fear in his chest. He felt odd, disconnected and off balance by her gentle acceptance of him. He thought that perhaps the horror of it hadn't sunk in for her. But Marisol...Marisol knew what death was like. She'd seen murder. She'd faced down thieves and attackers. She'd faced down the possibilities of a slow death from cancer, and the quicker death by bullet. She knew what pain and fear, fighting for your life and fighting for something else were like. He'd forgotten, looking in those gentle eyes, that quiet spirit, that she understood those things. She wasn't accustomed to violence, as he was, but she knew what it was, and what it was like. What it could do.

He felt an odd sort of grief, that her exposure to him had taught her more than she should have had to know about those things.

"Hey." She tapped his face, breaking him out of introspection again. He met her eyes, and she smiled once more. "I know that look. That's your guilty look." She cupped his face again. "Don't be. I chose this, and I chose you. Even if it's a little dark, I can live with it, okay? In some ways, it's still a lot easier than cancer." She smiled. "I might not quite get used to it, but I expect you to be there to keep the monsters away."

He nodded. For her, he'd keep all the monsters away, even the demons in his own soul. And as long as she was there, he vowed not to fall. The vow took hold of him, wrapping around his mind, relaxing him as his heart recognized a goal.

Marisol must have seen it on his face, because she nodded decisively. "Better." She leaned against him. "Did anything else happen?"

He relaxed into her touch. "Well, Yelina decided to move back to Miami. Other than that...just reports and paperwork."

"Hmm." She leaned further into him, to give him a lazy smile. "Good." Her hands, which had dropped to twine with his fingers, slowly pulled away, reached up to stroke his face. "I'm glad you came for me. I'm glad we get this time together."

He smiled at her, half-surprised that he could. "So am I, sweetheart."

She smiled back, then pulled his head toward her for a kiss. He wasn't sorry to oblige. A part of him still felt surprised, shocked even. The other part of him was relaxing, calm. Grateful and happy.

Their lips met. He felt her pulling him closer, shifting to be closer to him. Warmth pooled in his stomach, curled through him. Warmed him. He felt his body responding to hers. Felt the kiss deepen, going from sweet and gentle to intense, both of them responding to each other.

Marisol finally sat back to breathe, sitting up straight. She blinked at him. "And I was just going to ask how you felt."

"I feel...a little surprised. And very, very, lucky." He looked into her eyes.

A smile curved her lips. "I feel lucky too." She leaned in, kissing him again, her hands running across his chest. Horatio's blood heated, his heart beginning to pound harder. His own hands were moving, feeling the curve of her body underneath her nightdress. His hands slid over her, shaping the gown to the contour of her body. His blood heated even further, sparking a sudden, definite desire to have the nightgown off, or at least out of the way, Not to mention other things. The loose sleep pants he wore suddenly felt overly tight around the hips and groin.

Marisol's hands moved over him, slid under his nightshirt, caressing him, sliding slowly up his back and taking the shirt with them. Horatio felt them brush the scars there, felt some part of his mind twist, shudder. He'd never showed Marisol his scars, never been with her. After all, his relationship with her had never been casual. They'd both tried to keep it at friendship, for the sake of his relationship to Eric. By the time they'd realized it was more than that, he'd been far too emotionally involved for anything casual with her, even if she herself hadn't been so reserved.

A part of his mind was screaming at him, screaming to back off. But Marisol was still kissing him, her hands still running over his body, and desire smothered fear. He slid his own hands lower, down her ribcage and hips to the hem of her nightgown, at her knees. Marisol made a soft noise of appreciation as his hand started a long, slow glide upward, pulling the garment with it.

Her hands slid up his back, urging, and he bent his head forward so she could slip the shirt over it, strip him of it. She slid it over his head gently, down his arms, pulling back so she could toss it to the side. He held his breath, the still frightened corner of his mind wondering how she would react, if she would speak of the wounds that marked him. Her hands came back to his chest, traced a line of one faded scar, then stroked across his breast, gentle, with no demands for answers. Instead, she ran her hands over his chest, up to his shoulders, leaned forward to kiss his mouth, his throat, his heart. His fear collapsed, smothered by her actions.

His hands were on her hips, and he felt her rock upward slightly, so he could pull the nightgown above her waist. He caressed her slender hips, her flat stomach, her lightly marked ribs. She made another noise of appreciation, then gasped as his hands touched her breasts, stroked across her chest. He repeated the action, and she moaned softly, arching her back slightly into his touch.

He drew the nightgown over her head, tossed it aside. Her eyes were wide, hopeful and bright with desire. He realized he had no idea how much experience she had. Her touch wasn't completely inexperienced, or at least he didn't think so, but beyond that, he had no idea. He shook the thought away. Virgin or experienced as her brother, he wanted to do this slowly, gently. He wanted _their_ first time together, especially as man and wife, to be special.

He kissed her again, gently urging her to lean back against the pillows. Her hands slipped lower, running across his stomach before carefully gripping the waistband of his sleep pants. She hesitated, looking up at him, and he nodded slightly, then took her mouth in another kiss, slow, passionate, warm. He felt her hands push downward, relieving him of both pants and underwear. It slid down his legs, and he shifted his weight just enough to kick it off of him and to the floor. He caught Marisol looking at him and smiled. "So...like what you see?"

She gave him a coy look, and a smile that made his heart skip a beat. "Definitely." She hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him closer so she could kiss his jaw. "But I'd like to do a lot more than _see_ it, Lieutenant."

"Hmmm." His brain was fogging over, with the warmth of her breath on his neck, just over the pulse point. "That...can be arranged."

He pushed her back gently, then bent his head, letting hands and mouth explore her body, letting the soft sounds she made direct him what was good, and what wasn't. It had been a while since his last lover, but his body knew what he was doing, even if his brain was short-circuiting.

Heat was building in him, and his groin was painfully tight. Marisol's hands were touching him, urgent touches urging him to continue. He laid himself gently over her, felt her shifting to accommodate him. Felt his body touching hers, both of them hot and demanding release. He kissed her again, and she made a soft but demanding sound against his mouth, shifting restlessly. He held her a moment, then pushed slowly forward, gentle, careful, not wanting to hurt her. She gasped, but there was no pain in her face as he pushed himself slowly deeper, until they were locked together.

He held himself still, letting them both adjust, and smiled into her face. "We good, sweetheart?"

She nodded, shifted against and around him, sending little streaks of fire through his blood. He didn't need more urging, his body moving almost on it's own, setting up a steady rhythm, blood burning hotter as she responded, moved with him.

Fire built, higher and higher until he thought he was going to explode, to shatter. He could see Marisol's wide open eyes, expression mirroring his. Then her back arched, as she went over the edge, taking him with her. Stars exploded across his mind, his body, his frame trembling as wave after wave of almost painful ecstasy swept over him.

Finally he moved to lay beside her, spent but warm and relaxed as he hadn't been in a very long time. Marisol cuddled up to him, her head on his shoulder. "Well. That was...wow."

He chuckled. "Wow indeed." His hand stroked her hair. "You were wonderful, sweetheart."

"Hmm. And here I was thinking the exact same thing about you, handsome." She tilted her head to smile at him, then tugged herself closer. Horatio worked one arm under her shoulder to pull her against him, and relaxed.

They lay together a while, getting their breath back. Horatio was content to simply lie beside her. His mind was still spinning over everything that had happened to him in the past hour.

He was drawn out of his reverie by a finger tracing a scar just below his ribcage. He stiffened slightly, then tilted his head to look down at Marisol.

She felt him stiffen and looked up. "I'm sorry. Are you ticklish?"

"No. Just...a little startled. That's all, sweetheart." He relaxed, trying to ignore the cold feeling in his gut, the warning whisper in his mind. He'd never slept with a woman who didn't eventually ask about the scars, but this was different.

Her finger traced the scar again. "Looks painful."

He managed a small smile. "That one...put me in the hospital for a month. I was...chasing a killer in New York at the time, and we had a...rather bad meeting, involving knives. I happened to get the worst of it." It was the last time he'd been injured seriously on a case, too. He was a crack shot, and rarely ever lost a fight. But he had lost that one, and been wounded rather badly.

"Hmm. Well, I guess I'm not surprised. Every good cop probably has a few scars." She leaned her head on his arm.

"Probably. Eric has a couple as well."

Marisol snorted. "I know. He complained about them when he got them. Wasn't sure they wouldn't damage his image. But, he's managed to make them part of his bad boy persona, so it hasn't mattered much." They both chuckled, and her hands resumed their exploration of his abdomen and chest. She ran her hands over his skin, idly, until she crossed a faded scar running just under his sternum. "This one looks old."

Ice hit his stomach, froze him, faded memories crowding his mind with sudden sharpness. "It is." His stomach tightened into a very hard, cold knot.

"Horatio?" Marisol noticed the change in his mood immediately. She sat up on her elbow, alarm on her face. "Horatio, what's wrong?" Her hand touched his shoulder.

He drew himself to sit up, suddenly unable to bear being in such a vulnerable position. Not if they were going to discuss this. Normally he would have brushed it away, but not with Marisol. She deserved to know who he was. He'd hoped never to have to tell her, not about this, and wondered dimly if he'd wind up telling her everything. The thought made him nearly nauseous. He swallowed hard.

"Horatio?" Her eyes were wide, frightened. She'd wrapped the comforter around herself in a subconscious gesture of warmth.

He swallowed again. "That injury...was made by my father."

Her eyes flew wide open. "Your father...he did that to you?" Her hand clenched around the blanket. "How? Why?"

"Because he could. That time..." Horatio closed his eyes against the memory. "That time, he used his belt. I was...resisting a beating, so he hit me in the chest with the buckle."

"Oh my God." Marisol's voice was soft, shocked and raw in a way it hadn't been before, not even when he'd told her of killing Riaz. "How old were you?"

"I was twelve." Old enough to be defiant, old enough to know it was stupid and too old to yield. Too young for his efforts to mean anything.

"Did he...were you..." Her voice broke and faltered on the questions.

He remembered confessing to Walter Resden's last victim. Remembered her words. _'Your childhood was violent? Your father...was like Old Man Yates?'_ He answered Marisol as he'd answered the girl. "He did. I was."

"Didn't anyone try to stop it? Your mother?"

The question almost choked him, almost broke him. Something terrible, painful and black rose up inside him, and he tried to throttle it down. His voice was dead when he replied. "My mother...was a victim as well. As for stopping it...my father died when I was seventeen." He could hear the ice twisting in his voice, fought to bring it under control.

"He died?"

Horatio nodded. Normally, he would have left it there. Normally, he wouldn't have told anyone this much. But...this was different. Marisol deserved the truth about him. Even if it destroyed him. Destroyed them. "My father...was a violent man. When I was seventeen...I came home early from school, and found him beating my mother. It was...worse than usual. She was already almost unconscious."

Images flashed. Opening the door, hearing his father's voice raised in incoherent wrath. The loud crack of flesh on flesh, his mother's barely audible cry. Dropping his bag and running for the sound, heart in his throat. His father's back to him, turning at the sound of footsteps. Mother beaten and almost unrecognizable.

The memories rose up, and he heard himself speaking. "I...tried to pull him away. He hit me..." Bloodied his lip, he remembered, and he'd cracked his head on the door-frame reeling back. "My mother...tried to stop him, and he hit her again. And I..." He paused a moment. "I...had a knife..."

He'd started carrying that knife as a deterrent for schoolyard bullies, gangs and muggers. He'd pulled it from his pocket in sheer desperation. "I...drew it from my pocket. I think...I think I meant it as a bluff." He still wasn't sure. He remembered the raw, terrible rage that had begun to flood him. Rage and fear. Determination. Worse even than facing Riaz had been. "I was...trying to force him back, to get to my mother but he...wouldn't let me past." He'd taken another knock for that, his father avoiding his knife hand.

"My mother...she tried to get between us, and he hit her." He remembered the sharp, ugly snap as her head whipped back, a duller, more sickening crack as her head hit the wall, hard enough to dent. "I...tried to go to her, he attacked me, and I...lashed out. We struggled and I...the knife was buried in his side."

He didn't remember all of that last desperate fight. Only snatches, sharp and bright in his mind. Rage. Fear for his mother, lying so still. Fear for himself, because losing was likely to be a death sentence, with his father's state of mind. Struggling. Knife going back and forth. Desperate wrench and impact. Both of them letting go. Letting loose. Father staggering back, choking. No eyes for anything but his mother. Staggering to her side, wondering where the blood on him came from. Touching her neck, feeling nothing. No breath. Turning back to his father, accusation on his lips, fury surging brighter. But there had been no one left for him to scream at.

He forced the words out, stark and hard in the darkened room. "My parents...both died that day."

"You killed him?"

"I did." There was nothing else to say, but his mind was whirling with the pain of that admission, with what he feared it was about to cost him. Killing a drug cartel lord who'd already made repeated attempts on your life, and your family, had killed your brother, that was one thing. Killing your father...

"What...you..."

He didn't know what she was trying to ask, and took a guess. "It was ruled accidental homicide, during self-defense. The...evidence of abuse was enough to grant extenuating circumstances as well. I was...exonerated by the courts, and the case was...mostly closed."

"The courts exonerated you...but you..."

"No." He had never forgotten what he had done. He didn't think he'd ever forgive himself either. He certainly wasn't sure if God would, as he frequently told his pastor. _'I know what my penance is...'_

"Oh my God." Marisol's voice was weak and shaky. "How...how do you live with something like that?"

"I don't know." He finally turned, met her eyes. "My pastor said...I would know, someday. But I...I'm not so sure about that."

Silence fell between them, thick with distress. Marisol's face was pale in the dim light of the room. Horatio felt like he'd had knots tied in his gut, and ice poured over him. His hands were trembling, and he felt as if he wanted to be sick.

He couldn't look her in the eyes, couldn't bear the silence between them, torturing him. He spoke softly. "If you want me to go, Mari..."

"No." Her voice was shaky. He held himself still as her hand traced once more over the scar across his chest. Her fingers traced it, then she reached and lifted one of his hands. He had scars about the arm too, defensive wounds, and a few that were the result of surgery to put his broken bones back together. Her hand traced them. "Your father...he did this? Made these?"

"Most of them." He'd gotten a few on the street, but less than most cops. Surviving his father had made him very determined not to be a victim, and _very_ good at learning to fight back. So had the school toughs, who had known his situation, and that he had no one to rely on if they trashed him.

"And your back?" Her hand slipped behind him, feeling the multitude of wounds there.

"All of those." All the marks on his back were whip marks, made with a belt or whatever else his father could grab in his vicious rages.

"Your mother and brother?"

"The same. Raymond...slightly less." He'd done what he could to protect his younger brother. It had cost him. And in a way, it had cost his brother as well.

"That's terrible."

"So is what I've done." He finally looked her in the eyes. "My hands are stained with that blood, Mari."

"I know." She held his gaze, and her own was clearing. "But...I think...his hands were stained with your blood first."

"That doesn't make it right. Nothing does." He swallowed hard.

"No. But...knowing that...trying to fix it...trying to...to repent, to stop things like that...that's what you do, isn't it?" Her eyes were holding his, and he couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

He tilted his head to the side, an awkward nod, but the best he could do while holding her gaze. "It's...part of it."

"Then I think...that's the best you can do." She held his hands, gave them a gentle squeeze. Air huffed out of her in a long, slow sigh. "I...can guess why you didn't want to tell me this, why you've never mentioned it. And it is a little horrifying. But..." She captured his gaze. "It doesn't change who you are. It just changes what I know. And, as horrible as this is..." She exhaled again. "You trusted me enough to tell me. That...that's worth something. So is the fact that you're still the man who saved my brother, took care of me." A small smile lit her eyes. "Still Miami's best."

"It's still a lot to handle. If you were having second thoughts...I wouldn't blame you." He felt sadness taking over his fear. "You don't deserve to have to live with this."

She tightened her grip on his hands. "But you deserve someone to share the burden with." She glanced away. "I always wondered why you looked so sad. Even Eric isn't always sad. You always seemed burdened. And you always seemed so uncomfortable. Like something was weighing on you. But this...this is the biggest thing, isn't it?" She reached up to brush his hair back from his face. "It's why you wear long-sleeved shirts in summer, and have that look in your eyes. That hurt and haunted look."

"It is." He inclined his head again. "Most of it, at least."

She nodded, suddenly decisive. "Horatio, I won't deny that I'm shocked. Horrified even. But...I want to help you with this. You deserve someone to help you carry the burden." Her hand cupped his face. "I want to be that person for you, the way you were for me."

He thought he might collapse, from relief if nothing else. "It isn't...quite the same."

"No. But it's still true. You even told me I had the right and the chance to dream everything I ever wanted." She held his gaze. "I want everything, and I want to share it with you. The good things, and the bad." She held his gaze, and her hand tightened on his once more. "It's okay, Horatio."

His glance fell to his hands, remembering the blood that had soaked them. She followed his gaze, then gently reached across him to take his other hand. She took them both carefully, then raised them to her face and kissed his fingers lightly, letting her own fingers caress his palms and the back of his hands. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his. "It's okay."

Her eyes were sincere, forgiving, loving. Warmth flooded through him, melting the ice that curled around his heart, soothing and banishing the nausea in his gut and the tightness in his shoulders. Relief that she wasn't turning from him in disgust washed over him, making him feel light-headed, almost dizzy. He closed his eyes, trying to retain some semblance of control over the emotion that crashed through him.

"Horatio?" Her voice was gentle, soothing.

"I'm okay. I'm okay." He heard the words coming from his mouth, and actually believed them. He'd spoken the same words to Ray Jr, days ago, but they'd been empty, only meant to mask the shattering of his soul as the shards of anger fell away. Now he meant them. He opened his eyes, repeated the words. "I'm okay."

"So am I." Marisol captured his gaze again. "I know I'll probably need a few days to really think this over, but still...it's okay, Horatio." Her hand moved from his hands to his face. "I love you. Don't forget that, okay, handsome?"

A small smile tugged his mouth. "Never." he returned the gesture, cupping her jaw tenderly. "I love you too sweetheart."

She smiled back, her eyes studying him for a moment, before she came to a conclusion. "Good. Then we could both use some rest." She pushed him back to lie on the pillows, and he let her, still caught up in the dizzying rush of emotion that swirled through him. His eyes fell closed practically of their own accord. He felt Marisol sink into the pillows next to him, curling herself around him, her fingers lacing through his.

After everything he'd told her, all his confessions of his darkest sins, she was still holding his hand. For the first time since Mexico, he couldn't feel the phantom stickiness of blood on his hands. The lingering memory, of scarlet on the sand and the taint of iron in the air, faded. The sudden release of tension was enough to make him reel, leaving exhaustion such he'd almost never felt before in it's wake. He wrapped his free hand over Marisol's drawing himself closer to her warmth, and let the dark tides of sleep take him.

_**Author's Note:** So...bit of an emotional roller coaster here. But these two had to discuss Horatio's actions, and his darker side some time. After all, she's going to need to know who he is to keep up with him._


	7. Chapter 7: The Father

**Chapter Seven: The Father**

Horatio woke to light filtering through the curtains. He looked at the clock, surprised to note that it was only 7am, still early in spite of the night they'd had. He relaxed, then turned his head to look down at his left shoulder, where a warm weight rested.

Marisol lay curled up beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Her hands were still wrapped around his own, as if neither of them had moved during the night. Horatio blinked thoughtfully. It was the first night in a long time that he could remember sleeping through without nightmares. Though the nightmares that woke him with screams were rare, he usually woke once or twice in the night with quieter ones. He'd slept even worse after Marisol had been shot, and been almost an insomniac after Ray and Riaz's deaths.

The memory of their late night conversation flooded over him. His confessions. All his worst sins bared and brought to light. Marisol's forgiveness and acceptance. Their loving. He closed his eyes, the emotions of the previous evening threatening to overwhelm him once more. Shame. Grief. Relief. Astonishment. Love. He felt himself trembling under the onslaught of so many feelings.

Beside him, Marisol stirred. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him. "Horatio?" She blinked once or twice, sleepily, then sat up on one elbow, her expression changing to one of concern. "Horatio, what's wrong?"

He shook his head slightly and took a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control. Then another breath. With each breath, the trembling eased, until he finally relaxed. "Nothing's wrong, sweetheart."

"You're shaking." Her hand was still wrapped around his, and she squeezed his fingers gently. "Why?"

"Just a bit of a shock." he took a few more deep breaths, then levered himself upward into a sitting position, so he could stroke his hand along her cheek and brush her long dark hair out of her eyes. "It's all right. I'm okay now."

She frowned at him. "Was that...is it because of last night?"

He nodded cautiously, leaning back against the pillows. As the sleep cleared from his mind, he was very aware that neither of them were clothed. It didn't really matter much, since they were married, but it felt oddly inappropriate for this discussion, even if they'd been in a similar state for the worst of the night before. "It is."

"I'm sorry." Marisol bit her lip, concern in her dark eyes. "I guess...I really shouldn't have pushed you into talking about it. I...I just didn't realize...something so traumatic...I thought it was like when Eric doesn't want to discuss a case..."

"I know. It's okay, sweetheart." He curled his hand around hers, reached up to touch her face. "It's..." he trailed off. His father had been a long time ago. Ray and Riaz and Matos hadn't been. All of the scars in his spirit were raw. And yet...she soothed him. It didn't hurt as much as it had, last night, or before they'd talked. "It's okay."

"But it hurt you..." He stopped her words with a touch of his fingers to her lips.

"Not as much as the fear that you wouldn't forgive me." He held her gaze, then broke it, swallowing hard. "I didn't expect you to. Those sins..."

"Are part of who you are." it was her turn to interrupt him. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You're still the man I fell in love with, the man I married. Eric's boss, head of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab." She sighed again. "It's terrible, what you've been driven to do. Horrifying. But...what happened to you, to make you do something like that...it's worse. You aren't the kind of man who'd do those things without a reason." She lifted her head, then disentangled her hand from his and used it to pull his face around so their eyes could meet. "It's scary, but this is still part of your world. Part of you. And you're still the man I chose to be with." She sat up, gazing at him earnestly, then spoke softly, her voice low and intense. "Don't ever forget that." She held his gaze a long moment. "Okay, handsome?"

"Okay." Those two syllables, the serenity in her eyes, made him feel as if a monstrous burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He wasn't sure he felt forgiven, only that his heart hadn't felt so light in years. He managed a small smile. "I won't."

"Good." She returned the smile, then stretched. The sheet slid down to gather at her waist. Horatio swallowed, his thoughts suddenly on a different track. Marisol saw the change in his expression, and gave him a quick grin. "If we've got that out of the way, I think we need to make breakfast." She leaned over him and grabbed her nightgown off the floor, then slipped it over her head. "I think I'll make some pancakes, okay?"

"That's fine." Horatio smiled. "I'll join you in a minute."

"Sure." She leaned forward, caressed his face gently with one hand, then kissed him lightly on the cheek and rose from the bed, disappearing into the main area of the apartment.

Horatio took a moment to relax, then leaned down to grab the clothing he'd discarded the night before. He slipped pants and underwear over his lower legs, then rose to pull them the rest of the way up. As he did so, the mirror on the wall by the closet caught his attention. He paused, then moved forward to look at the reflection in the glass.

It had been a long time since he'd really looked in a mirror. Usually he dressed, looked into it long enough to make sure his shave was neat, his collar set right and his hair brushed, then he turned away. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked into a mirror while half-clothed. He didn't want to see the scars, visible reminders of both old wounds and old sins. But...

Marisol had seen his scars, and called him handsome. She'd heard his confession, and hadn't turned him away. She'd said she'd be there for him. He studied his reflection; the scars, the lines of age and care and heartache graven in his face, around his eyes and mouth, trying to see the man she did. Then he turned away, found his shirt and pulled it over his head, and followed his wife.

Marisol already had the batter mixed, and was busy thawing bacon and slicing it when he arrived. Coffee was percolating in the small coffee maker on the corner of the counter. Horatio smiled, then slid noiselessly over behind his wife and extended his hand to take the knife. "How about...I do that?"

"Sure." She let go, then twisted around to grin at him. "So...any plans for our last day?"

"Well...we do have to pack. But aside from that..." He returned her loving smile. "Anything you want, sweetheart."

Marisol's smile widened. "You really are spoiling me." She glanced at the clock. "You know...it's Sunday." she sighed. "I've been wanting to go to church, but I don't know where I would go." She looked back up at him. "I don't suppose you know of a good place to attend?"

Horatio blinked. He hadn't been to church since her mock-funeral. His mind jumped backwards, to the first day he'd heard he was a Mala Noche target, shortly before he'd met her. He'd gone out of his parish to meet the man who'd once been his priest and confessor. The man currently the cardinal of New York City. He even knew which church the man was based in. He glanced at the clock. "As a matter of fact, if you're willing to hurry, I think I know just the place. In fact...if you don't mind, there's someone I'd like you to meet." He'd meant to introduce her to the old priest, to get his blessing, but the week had rushed by so fast.

She stared at him a moment, then nodded. "You'd better get to work on the bacon, then."

Breakfast and dressing took them a little less than an hour. Horatio wore one of his dark suits, while Marisol wore one of the conservative dresses she'd purchased during her stay.

Traffic was rough, and it took longer than Horatio remembered to find the church. After all, it had been years since he had last been there. The last time he'd seen the old priest had been in the church in Miami. Still, by the time they arrived, they were only a few minutes late. They were even lucky enough to find a decent parking space. Horatio helped Marisol from the car, then escorted her inside, feeling a sense of deja vu wash over him as he did so.

Even after more than a decade away, every stone seemed heartrendingly familiar. Every crack in the pavement, every line of mortar, seemed to evoke old memories. Memories of childhood visits, of teenage confessions. Memories of grief and shame. Of long hours whispering in the dark, old confessions and unforgettable sins.

He was aware of greeting the ushers, of leading Marisol to a seat and slipping in beside an old couple he didn't recognize. His fingers found the place in the hymnal, and he slipped easily into the prayers. But his mind felt...disconnected.

The service passed in a blur. He was aware, at times, of joining in the music, or the prayers, and of Marisol's hand wrapped around his. He was aware of the offering plate being passed, knew he put money in it, though he couldn't have said how much. But his mind kept drifting away, floating into the past, anchored only by Marisol's hand in his and the familiar figure at the podium.

He hadn't seen the Cardinal's face clearly in the confessional. In the clear light of day, he could see how much the old priest had aged. There was silver and white in his hair now, and the confessional booth had hidden many of the wrinkles and lines that crossed his face and brow. But even if his voice was a trifle weaker than before, it still carried the authority and compassion he remembered from his boyhood. It echoed through the sanctuary and Horatio let it wash over him, smoothing the raw edges of nerves frayed by his conversation with Marisol.

The closing prayers roused him from his daze. He rose to his feet with the others, watched as two acolytes with lit candles preceded the old priest down the aisle. A final song echoed through the sanctuary. Then the bells chimed and the throng began to move, heading for the doors.

Horatio stepped aside to let their seat mates leave, but he caught Marisol's hand before she could follow them. "Wait a few minutes, sweetheart."

Marisol stopped, looking up at him curiously. "Horatio?"

He smiled gently at her. "There's someone I'd like you to meet, Mari. An old friend."

"Okay." She settled into the pew beside him. "You were right. This is an impressive church."

Horatio smiled. "It is."

Marisol glanced around, then back at him. "Did you come here when you were younger?"

Pain lanced through him, unexpected and sharp. Memories crowded his mind, a frightened red-hair child and a tormented red-haired youth side by side in his mind. He swallowed hard, trying to force the memories back where they belonged. "All the time."

Marisol immediately scooted closer, taking his hand in her own warm ones. "Horatio? What's wrong?" There was concern and contrition in her large, dark eyes.

He shook his head, swallowing again to force the lump in his throat back down. "It's all right, sweetheart. Just...old memories."

Marisol nodded, her expression understanding and compassionate. Then she slid back on the seat so she could lean against him, intertwining her hand with his.

Together, they watched the church empty, until finally they were the only ones left, except for the priests and other church servants. Horatio waited patiently. Finally, one of the priests noticed them. Horatio watched the man approach, noting the markings on the cassock that denoted him as a senior priest in the church, possibly even the Cardinal's assistant. The man stopped a few feet away, and carefully, reverently, set down the Bibles he was holding. "May I help you?"

Horatio rose, bowing his head in a gesture of respect. "As a matter of fact, Father, I'm hoping you can. You see, my wife and I...we're visiting from Miami." The priest nodded. "This...was once my parish. And if it's not too forward of me, I was wondering if we might have a moment with the Cardinal."

The priest frowned in consideration. "His Grace is extremely busy."

Horatio nodded. "I know Father. But I have something...something I need to tell him. It's extremely important. And...there's something I need to ask him." He lifted his eyes to meet the priest's gaze. "If you could...please tell him Horatio Caine is here."

He didn't know what the priest saw in his eyes, but after a minute, the older man's face softened. "I will tell him. If you will wait here, I will take him your message. However, I cannot promise you anything, my son."

Horatio bowed his head once more. "I understand Father, and I appreciate it." the priest regarded them a moment longer, then made a sign, turned, and departed, stopping to pick up the Bibles as he left. Horatio settled back to wait.

Marisol was staring at him. "Horatio...disturbing a Cardinal..."

"It's okay Mari." He offered her a smile. The Cardinal of New York and I...we're very old friends." He clasped her hand and squeezed gently, reassuringly.

A few minutes later, the priest returned. "Mr. Caine, the Cardinal has said he will see you in his office." He gestured to a door behind and to the left of the altar. "It's through there, the last door on the right."

Horatio nodded. "If you don't mind, Father...would you be willing to sit with my wife for a few moments?" He needed to speak to the old man in private. He saw understanding in Marisol's eyes.

The priest nodded. "We will wait for you here."

Horatio ducked his head in acknowledgment, then turned and started toward the door. The walk seemed interminable, but the hallway beyond the door was short. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, then knocked once on the door. A voice from inside bid him enter, and he stepped through, shutting the door behind him.

Behind a desk, the old Cardinal was seated. He'd changed into less formal clothing though. As Horatio shut the door, a warm smile crossed his face. "Horatio! Come in, and sit down." He gestured to a chair in front of him. "I wasn't expecting to see you. It's only been, what, ten months?"

Horatio settled into the chair. "Eleven and a half, Father." He bowed his head in respect, then relaxed.

"Eleven and a half. Of course. But I thought you were living in Miami now. What brings you to New York?" The old man settled back as well. His tone was neutral, calm, but Horatio could see the concern in his eyes. No surprise. The last time he'd come before the old priest, he'd been suffering through a crisis of faith.

"It's a...a personal matter, Father." he couldn't help swallowing again, and squashed the urge to bite the inside of his cheek. "A lot's happened."

The Cardinal nodded. "Tell me about it."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, and decided to begin with the hardest. Not the worst, but the hardest. "Father...Raymond is dead."

The old priest stiffened. "Your brother? The little dark-haired boy?" It surprised him that the old man still remembered his brother, since Raymond hadn't been nearly as frequent a visitor to the church as he had been. Still, he nodded. The old man paled. "How did this happen?"

Horatio took a deep breath. "I...Raymond...he worked as an undercover Narcotics agent. Things got complicated. I sent him and his family to Brazil, to try and protect them. But Ray...he got mixed up with a gang called Mala Noche. One of the leaders...beat him to death. He died in my arms."

"I am sorry to hear that." The old man's eyes were full of compassion.

"So am I." Horatio paused. "What bothers me is that I...can't feel sorry for killing his murderer, or the man who threatened his son."

The priest's expression was tinged with horror. "Horatio...again?"

"Again." Horatio did bite his lip then. "It was...self-defense. But...what comes after that..." He shook his head. "Even though it was for Ray, and for my nephew...for people who are dear to me..." He bowed his head. "I cannot stop my anger, Father. Even now..."

"Horatio..." The old priest sighed, then settled back in his chair. "I don't know what to tell you, that I have not already said. Anger is a sin, and killing is a sin. But when you kill to protect those around you...God judges you both ways Horatio. You know this."

"I do. But...one of those was a vengeance killing." Horatio swallowed.

"And I fear you will have to live with that, and atone for it. But even so, you must not doubt that the Lord loves you. That you are precious in God's eyes. And you must know, you are certainly precious in mine, no matter what you have done." The old priest came around the desk, and gently laid hands on his shoulders.

Horatio exhaled, feeling some of the tightness in his chest drain away. He'd needed those words, just as he'd needed the reassurance of the man who'd been his pastor as a boy, who'd counseled him the first day he'd come to the church after his father's death. "Thank you, Father."

"I wish I could do more for you, my son." The old man sighed again. "You have made arrangements for Raymond?"

He nodded. "I have. His widow handled the burial. She told me...they'll be moving back to Miami, for now, so Ray Jr can complete his schooling. She used to be an officer on the force with me. I think she's planning on taking up a private investigation business. I...intend to help whatever way I can."

"That is good of you, my son. I'm sure you will take excellent care of your family." The Cardinal settled into a different chair, one closer to him.

"I intend to." Horatio stopped, uncertain of how to continue. He hadn't meant to tell the priest of Raymond's death first, hadn't meant his impromptu confession, but it had cleared the air. Still, it left the tone wrong for what he wanted to say, the reason he'd come.

The old man stayed quiet, waiting patiently for him. Finally, Horatio exhaled softly. "Father...you said I would know, when I found grace."

"I did."

"Is it possible...to find grace and still need to atone? To still have sins to pay for, and find peace, Father? Even if...if I've committed another sin...is it possible to be forgiven?"

"Of course. All deeds must be paid for, but that doesn't me they must separate you from God." The old man shook his head. "I tried to tell you this when you were a boy, Horatio. God may require penance, but he also has mercy for those who repent of their deeds, who have faith and love Him. But you have to be willing to forgive as well. When I told you that God's grace was between you and God, I meant that you had to be willing to accept it. The Lord was always willing to forgive you my son, but you have never forgiven yourself, or allowed anyone to forgive you."

Horatio nodded. The old man had told him that, or something like it. "I think...I might understand what you mean now, Father."

The old priest blinked. "What do you mean? Has something else happened?"

"It has." He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Father...I have a question. I know lying is wrong, but...is it still a sin, if it preserves a life? Is it all right, to protect someone this way?"

"That depends. How do you mean?"

"There is...a young woman. Her brother is a part of my team. Because of her ties to me, and him, she was targeted by Mala Noche and nearly killed. In order to protect her, we faked her death. She...didn't want to abandon us, so she decided to take a new name, and a new identity. I'm taking her back to Miami tomorrow."

The priest frowned, then shook his head. "If this will protect her life, then it is allowed. It is no different than what police do, to protect witnesses in important cases. I'm certain God will not judge you on this."

Horatio nodded. "I'd...hoped you would say that." He rose from his chair. "Your Grace, if it's not too much trouble, there's someone I'd like you to meet. And then, there's a favor I'd like to ask of you."

The old Cardinal smiled. "It's no trouble, my son." He rose from his seat. "So, introduce me to this mystery person of yours."

Horatio smiled. "It would be my honor."

Still smiling, he led the way back to the sanctuary. Marisol was still there, engaged in a quiet conversation with the priest he'd left with her. Both figures looked up at their entrance, then rose from their seats. The priest walked forward to meet them. "Your Grace..."

"It's all right. If you could inform the others that I'm meeting an old friend and shall arrive a little late...bless the food and tell them to help themselves. I'll be along in a few minutes." The Cardinal smiled at the other cleric warmly.

"As you wish." The man bowed, then turned and strode down the aisle, disappearing through a side door.

The old man turned back to Marisol, standing hesitantly nearby. "And you must be Horatio's companion. Welcome to my church, daughter." He took her hand, bowing with stately grace as he did so.

"Thank you." Marisol blushed. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Grace."

"Come now, no formality needed." The old man smiled, then turned partially. "Horatio, introduce me to your lovely companion here."

Horatio nodded and stepped forward. "This is the young woman I told you about, Father. Her current name is Maria Espinoza. However..." He moved forward until he could intertwine his fingers with hers. "Father, I'd like you to meet Marisol Delko Caine." He met the priest's eyes, feeling happiness bubbling in his heart. "My wife."

The old man's face lit up in an incandescent smile. "Your wife!" He took Horatio's hand and shook it. "Congratulations, my son." Then he turned to Marisol. "Congratulations, my daughter. I trust you will take good care of him."

Marisol blushed. "Well, it's more that he's been taking care of me. But...I promise, I do intend to return the favor." She smiled, her hand squeezing Horatio's for a moment.

"Of course." the old priest studied them a moment, then nodded, his face wreathed in smiles. "I sense the two of you will be a good match for each other. I trust you will take good care of her, Horatio."

"Until the day I die, Father." He swallowed. "Father...because of the circumstances, Marisol and I married in a hurry. However, if I could...I'd like to ask for your blessing."

"Of course you may have it." The old man's eyes were warm, full of compassion. "Come."

He led them to the altar and gestured for them both to kneel. Horatio did so, Marisol right beside him. The old man bent down and took their joined hands, holding them gently in his gnarled fingers. Horatio bowed his head as the Cardinal laced their fingers a little more tightly together, then clasped their hands in his own. "Holy Father and Lord God, I ask your blessing upon this man and woman, as they start their lives together. May they walk in the shadow of your protection. Shelter them from harm. May they be blessed in every hour with your wisdom and grace, and supported in their love by your infinite wisdom. I pray you bless them with peace and happiness throughout all their days together. Guide them on the road they must walk, that they may find solace and comfort in each other, and in you. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I bless this union. Amen." Horatio exhaled, and so did Marisol.

"Rise, my children." They both did. The old priest looked them in the eyes. "You both have a long and hard journey before you. However, know that I wish you both the very best, and the greatest of happiness. You, daughter, take care of this man, as well as yourself. And you, Horatio..." his eyes met Horatio's. "Don't forget what I told you."

Horatio bowed his head. "I won't Father."

The old priest nodded, then released their hands. "Will you join us for the afternoon meal?"

Horatio shared a glance with Marisol, then shook his head. "I think we've taken up enough of your time, Father. After all, you have your own people to look after. Besides...we'll need to finish packing for the trip back to Miami tomorrow."

"Very well." The old man held out a hand, and shook Horatio's, then pulled both of them into a firm embrace. "God go with you both."

Horatio hugged him back, then let go. "And with you, Father."

The priest kissed Marisol once on the cheek in benediction, then offered Horatio a final smile before he turned away. Horatio watched as the old man disappeared through the door his fellow priest had entered, then turned back to Marisol. "Let's go home, sweetheart."

Marisol nodded. "Sounds good." She linked her arm with his, and the two of them left.

_**Author's Note: **This chapter with Horatio's priest just begged to be written. I confess, I had some difficulty in figuring out the tone, so I hope it came out right._


End file.
